


There's a Ghost on the Horizon

by DownhillWeGo



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, First Meeting, M/M, My tags are not very telling, Mystery, Supernatural Elements, and that's for a good reason, but also humour honestly, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-08-20 12:27:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownhillWeGo/pseuds/DownhillWeGo
Summary: Lucas and the gang are on vacation in Arthur’s grandparents’ house in the South of France. Everything appears to be fine, but Lucas can’t shake off the feeling that something really weird is going on.//“I have been in this state for a long time and no one has ever seen me like this. Until you.”“So, it’s true then. You really are dead?”//





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Guys, I can’t believe this is it. I’ve been working on this for sooooo long and you have no idea how much it changed during this whole time. 
> 
> It was supposed to be an OS but it was getting so long that I decided to cut it in 3 parts. Part 2 needs to be edited and Part 3 is almost finished as well so you guys won't have to wait too long for the whole story to be complete. 
> 
> Now I’m really excited to share this with you, this story is … very special to me and I really hope you’ll like it ^^

Lucas was sitting on a wooden chair in the patio, sipping coffee. The sun was nice and warm, caressing his skin softly and he closed his eyes, pushing his head back with a sigh of content.

Surprisingly, he was the first one up, but the silence only broken by birds chirping around in the garden and the soft wind moving leaves in the trees, was greatly appreciated. He hadn’t felt that rested in a while, which was quite a feat, knowing Lucas usually needed a couple of nights to get used to a new environment, and he wanted to bask in that moment of peace for as long as he could.

The guys and he were in Arthur’s grandparents’ country house for a week. They were all on vacation, exams finally behind them, and Lucas felt he could breathe again, after months filled with frustration, tears and mostly doubting himself every step of the way.

The house was in a small village in the South of France surrounded by dark forests and small lakes, making the weather surprisingly cool for the month of July. Not many houses were around and the contrast from their usual hectic life in Paris was stark but welcomed, nonetheless. The house was old and had certainly lived better days, but it still felt homely, filled with the smell of wood, paint and old books.

They had arrived a little before midnight the previous evening, exhausted after spending the entire day driving, a trip filled with many frights. Basile was the only one among them with his driving license and Lucas couldn’t help but wonder who in their right mind had thought it would be a good idea to allow him to drive at all. Basile was reckless, changing lanes without looking around and he always got distracted by the most random things. Lucas was seriously tempted to take the train back home instead of getting in Basile’s car again. 

He didn’t have a death-wish, thank you very much.

Lucas heard footsteps coming from behind him and he turned his head lazily to the side, squinting when the sun hit his eyes. He saw Basile approaching, his steps heavy.

“Morning, Baz,” Lucas greeted him.

Basile yawned, his mouth opening wide, and he flopped down on the chair next to Lucas. He looked up a moment later, and Lucas noticed the dark circles he had under his eyes.

“Did you make coffee?” Basile grunted, his voice deep with sleep and he arched his back, stretching his arms. He looked like a contemporary dancer, his curly hair a messy mop on his head and his arms moving oddly around him. Lucas felt the corner of his lips twitch and he covered his mouth to hide his amusement.

He lifted his mug up in the air. “The pot is in the kitchen,” he mumbled, tilting his head towards the house.

Basile nodded and with a groan, he got out of his seat and headed back inside, dragging his feet on the wooden floor.

He came back a few minutes later, holding two mugs in his hands. Yann was trailing after him, his eyes small with sleep, but he sported a bright grin on his lips, revealing his pearly white teeth. A loaf of bread was under his armpit, his hands holding butter and a jar of homemade jam, some of the few food products Arthur’s grandma had left for them, and he carefully dropped it off on the table before sitting down in front of Lucas.

Yann shot Lucas a smile. “Hello!” he exclaimed jovially, his grin widening even more and without waiting any longer, he turned to the bread and tore out a piece before grabbing the butter in his left hand. He then frowned, staring blankly in front of him, his eyes roaming across the table, and Lucas’ mouth twisted in amusement, Yann’s sleepy state clearly slowing his brain down.

Yann’s eyebrow suddenly shot up on his forehead and he huffed, as if he was cursing himself in his head. “Crap, I forgot a knife,” he whispered to himself as he got on his feet. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbled distractedly before going back in the house.

Lucas snorted, and he took Yann’s piece of bread once he was sure his friend couldn’t see him. He opened the jam, dipping the head of the bread inside before bringing it to his mouth.

If anyone asked, it was Basile and Lucas was innocent.

He chewed on it quickly, glancing sideways to make sure Yann wasn’t coming back and he turned his attention to Basile who was scowling at his mug.

“What’s up, Baz? You look like shit,” Lucas stated calmly, sipping his coffee to swallow the last few crumbs that had decided to get stuck between his teeth.

Basile’s shoulder dropped and he sighed heavily. “I couldn’t sleep last night," he murmured. “I think I fell asleep at like… I don’t even know. The sun was rising at that point,” he added, rubbing both of his hands over his face. He brought his mug to his mouth and he winced when the burning liquid touched his tongue. He pushed it away and cursed loudly, glaring at his mug as if all of this was its fault.

Lucas chuckled but his face quickly morphed into an expression of sympathy. “Ah, how come?” he asked and Basile sucked on his lower lip, his eyes shifting to the house every few seconds.

“I heard a lot of creepy sounds. For a while I thought someone was knocking on the wall, like right above my head,” he explained in a low voice, his hand moving over his head. “Kinda like this…” he trailed off, knocking a few times on the table.

Lucas raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I know what a knock is,” he deadpanned.

Basile rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying! It would stop once in a while and when I was finally about to sleep, it started again. It freaked me out,” he confessed, lowering his eyes to his mug as his cheeks reddened.

Lucas glanced at the house with suspicion. “Are you sure it wasn’t the wind? Or the guys pranking you?” he inquired.

Basile shook his head, his brown curls bouncing around. “No, the bed is up against the outside wall, as in, the wall that delimits the house. So, none of you guys could’ve done it.” He paused and shuddered. “Ugh, just talking about it gives me the creeps,” he admitted with a wince.

Lucas frowned. It was probably not that big a deal, but Basile seemed pretty shaken up. “Uh. That’s weird,” he simply commented.

Yann chose that moment to reappear, holding the knife in his hand.

“Took you a while. Did you get lost?” Lucas smirked and Yann pointed the knife at him threateningly.

“I have a weapon, don’t push me,” Yann shot back as he sat down in front of Lucas, dropping the knife on the table. Lucas stared at the knife, raising his eyebrow challengingly. Yann shook his head. “Just had to pee,” he informed Lucas. “Are you satisfied, detective?”

Lucas snorted and Yann shot him an amused smile as he grabbed the butter, unwrapping the packaging carefully.

“Hey, Yann, did you have trouble sleeping too?” Basile asked.

“Uh, not really?” Yann answered distractedly, his eyes wandering across the table. He frowned, puzzled. “I thought I…” he trailed off and he froze on his seat, his gaze moving to Lucas who smiled innocently. “Lucas…” Yann sighed, narrowing his eyes in suspicion and Lucas lifted his hand in a placating gesture, his face screaming ‘I didn’t do anything’.

Yann’s mouth tightened, and Lucas knew right then that his friend wasn’t buying his innocent act for one second.

“Whatever,” Yann muttered, his gaze jumping from Lucas to Basile, picking up the previous conversation. “This place is weird though. I don’t know what it is, but it just … I don’t know. It’s a bit creepy?”

“Ha!” Basile exclaimed, tearing away a piece of bread and stealing the knife away before Yann could use it. “See?” Basile told Lucas, pointing the knife in his direction and Lucas stared at it, a bit worried it might slip from Basile’s hand and plunge right into his abdomen.

He trusted Yann not to hurt him, but Basile was another story. He was quite uncoordinated and had the tendency to trip over his own feet and Lucas moved his chair back, distancing himself from him.

Lucas was too young to die and meeting his demise because of some bread was a tragedy. And he had to admit, quite ironic for a French man. He could already imagine Mika writing a mocking obituary message on his tombstone.

And this simply couldn’t do.

Basile grabbed the butter and started spreading some messily on the bread. “I told you, something’s wrong with this house. First the noise and then _this_.” He said, tilting his head towards Yann. He forcefully picked up the jam and pushed the knife in.

“Alright Baz, calm down,” Lucas muttered beside him, staring wearily at Basile’s hand.

“What about you, Lucas?” Yann asked as he brought his elbow on the table and put his chin on his palm.

Lucas shrugged, “I slept like a baby.”

“Lucky you,” Basile mumbled. He took a bite of his toast. “We need to do something about this,” he continued.

Yann frowned. “Like what?”

“Hello!” Arthur said from behind them, his wet-haired head poking out from the door making Lucas startle. He twirled on his chair and greeted Arthur with a lazy wave of his hand.

Arthur stepped to the table and sat down next to Yann, greeting the group with a toothy grin. “What’s up?” he asked, the sun reflecting on his glasses and he brought a hand over his face to cover his eyes.

“I was thinking about calling an exorcist,” Basile muttered.

Arthur gazed at him, confused. “Uh? What?” he asked with a frown. 

“Your house is haunted by a knock-obsessed creature,” Basile explained, bringing the last piece of bread to his mouth. “We have to deal with it if we’re staying here. I need to sleep, I’m still a growing boy,” he continued with his mouth full, crumbs falling out his mouth. Lucas wrinkled his nose in disapproval and shot him a displeased look.

Arthur’s frown deepened and Lucas noticed how his eyes suddenly brightened. “Ah, yeah, that’s nothing,” he said, waving his hand. “It’s just Eliott.”

Lucas slowly raised an eyebrow, a curious glint in his eyes. Was there another person in the house?

“Who’s Eliott?” Yann blurted out and a mysterious smile stretched Arthur’s lips.

“Technically, he’s like my great-great-great-great, uh, maybe another great, _great_-cousin, on my Mom’s side. He died in the 1830s or something. I don’t remember. It’s kind of a long story,” Arthur said with a casual shrug.

Lucas shot him a flat look. “You know this makes no sense, right?” he muttered and Arthur’s grin widened.

He dropped his mug on the table and moved his face closer to Lucas. “I mean, I know it’s not possible. But it’s like an old family story. I think his dad was the one who built the house in the early 1800s and Eliott was his only kid,” he explained. He scratched his chin pensively then brought his hand close to his ears. “I wonder if I could rock sideburns.”

“Arthur?” Lucas said, puzzled by Arthur’s random rambling and he waved his hand in front of his friend’s face.

Arthur shook his head. “Oh yes, sorry,” he mumbled. “So, the story says that Eliott died when he was in his early twenties. And since the day he died, noises have been heard in the house, knocks, doors slapping, scratches on the wood, etcetera, etcetera.”

Lucas noticed Basile’s shudder next to him and he nudged him with his elbow. Basile shot him a grim look, clearly not very pleased with what he was hearing.

“Well, that’s great, how am I going to sleep tonight?” he whined.

Arthur shrugged, and gave Basile a comforting smile. “Don’t take it seriously, man. It’s only a story. And you know how stories get, they change with time and before you know it, the tale of a mermaid who got her tongue ripped out turns into a Disney movie where she lives happily ever after _with_ her tongue.” He paused. “Wait did she still have her tongue?” he mused before he shook his head and smiled. “Anyway, my family decided to go from Disney to Grimm, that’s all.”

Lucas snorted, amused. Arthur wasn’t wrong, Lucas acknowledged pensively. Who in their right mind would believe a house was genuinely haunted?

No one.

Exactly.

Arthur slipped his hand around the handle of his mug and brought it to his mouth, blowing softly on his coffee to cool it off. “It used to scare the shit out of me when I was a kid, because my grandma loved to tell me that story when I was being a little shit,” he admitted, taking a tentative sip, “Now I don’t even pay attention to the noise anymore.”

He cleared his throat, shooting Basile a reassuring smile. “Ghosts don’t exist Baz. It’s an old house and there’s nothing around here so the sounds can be anything really,” he continued. “I come here every summer, and nothing ever happened. You’re going to be fine,” Arthur promised with warm eyes.

“If you say so…” Basile murmured then he lifted his head from the table and glanced at the house with suspicious eyes.

They were only there for a week. Not much could happen in such a short amount of time.

Right?

\---

“Yann?” Arthur shouted from the living room by the front door, dropping his backpack at his feet. He picked up his shoes and put them on, standing precariously on one foot then the other.

The toilet flushed in the bathroom and Yann’s face appeared down the hallway, a sheepish smile stretching his lips.

“I’m here. Sorry, I was looking for my sunglasses,” he said as he stepped towards the rest of the group.

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “In the toilets?” he muttered under his breath and Yann shot him a warning look.

Arthur nodded, oblivious to the quiet exchange beside him and said, “Cool, let’s go.”

He opened the front door, the door creaking noisily making them all wince, and he stepped outside. Lucas was about to follow him when he remembered he had forgotten something in his room.

He slapped his palm on his forehead. “Wait, my towel is upstairs,” he cried out and he saw Yann shake his head from the corner of his eyes in mock-exasperation. Lucas turned on his heel and rushed to the staircase. “Go ahead, I’ll catch up,” he yelled without a backward glance, climbing the steps two by two.

“Okay, we’ll walk slowly,” he heard Arthur shout as Lucas entered his room and he heard the front door close loudly a few moments later.

He glanced around the room, noticing the mess he had already made in such a short amount of time. Clothes were dangling from the back of the chair, pairs of socks littering the floor by his bed and he walked to his bag, crouching down beside it. Once his hand curled around the fabric of his towel, he slowly pulled it out before straightening up.

He was about to turn around when he felt a shift in the atmosphere. His heart rate seemed to speed up slightly in his chest and he held his breath in, expectant. His skin was tingling in anticipation, his gut feeling screaming at him that something unusual was happening, and if Lucas was good at anything, it was picking up on those sorts of things.

Something wasn’t right, and the eerie silence in the house didn’t help in calming him down. Lucas’ back was straight and tense, and he felt almost afraid to move, even though every fibre of his body was begging him to run away.

And then he heard it.

A knock.

And then another one, right there, on the wall to his right.

Lucas’ breath hitched and he snapped his head to the sound almost reflexively, his eyes rounding when he noticed he wasn’t alone. 

A pale looking man was standing by the window, eyes glued on Lucas. His face was carefully neutral, but Lucas gulped when he noticed a dark look cross his face. The man appeared to be between his late teens and early twenties, Lucas couldn’t really tell, with a haircut he had seen countless of times on men of the 19th century in historical movies or history books, coiffed to the side in an almost flippant yet elegant way. His face was framed by brown sideburns, a darker shade than his hair and the man was wearing a white-collared shirt and black fitted pants.

But more so than any of this, Lucas felt captured by the intensity of the man’s blue eyes, as if he was demanding Lucas’ entire attention, a hint of danger behind them.

Lucas would’ve honestly thought the man was attractive if he didn’t feel like yelling at the top of his lungs.

The intruder didn’t say anything, his stare unflinching and the silence stretched, only shattered by Lucas’ loud and raggedy breathing as they observed one another.

Lucas felt his blood run cold and an unpleasant shiver ran down his spine. Lucas’ thoughts were a mess of confusion and horror and he closed his eyes, wishing the man away. He took a step back, trying to distance himself from the man and tripped on a piece of clothing on the floor, making him stumble and fall on his ass.

Pain erupted in his lower back and he ignored it, pushing himself further away until his back hit the brown closet.

It wasn’t real, he told himself repeatedly.

He took a deep breath and counted to three in his head. When he opened his eyes, the man was gone.

Lucas exhaled shakily, feeling his heart beating madly in his chest.

What the hell had just happened? Had it all been in his head? A trick of the light?

He got on his feet quickly and glanced around the room, looking for traces of the man, but he was nowhere to be seen. In a second, Lucas bolted out of the room, his towel in a tight grip as he rushed down the stairs.

He had surely hallucinated the whole thing, he thought as he ran to the front door and flew out of the house.

There was no other explanation.

\---

After roaming across the small village and swimming in the nearby lake until the late hours of the afternoon, the boys had come back to the house to eat after a pit stop at the grocery store downtown.

Yann had offered to cook, and Lucas had been more than happy to let him do his thing, knowing that he wouldn’t have to lift a single finger. And Yann was a surprisingly good cook. Yann’s mom, whom Lucas loved dearly, had always encouraged Yann to learn how to be independent from a young age, and cooking certainly had been one of the things she had drilled into his brain. All in all, it was a win-win situation for Lucas.

The evening had been great so far, spent smoking weed, drinking beer and talking about the most random things in the patio, but Lucas had felt on edge ever since they had returned to the house. He didn’t want to go back inside and stumble upon that… whatever that man was.

If he was honest with himself, he had felt that way the entire day, the afternoon accident popping in his head incessantly. It was as if his brain was refusing to let it go and Lucas felt as frustrated as he felt like he was going mad. If someone like this … man existed, what was real?

“Yann this is _so_ good,” Basile mumbled between two bites, shoving the fork in his mouth eagerly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in delight.

“Oh, thanks Baz. It’s not as good as when my mom does it, but I did alright,” Yann said with a bashful shrug, but Lucas could tell he was pleased by the compliment. 

“Are you kidding?” Basile exclaimed, his fork hanging up in the air. “This is probably the only good dinner we’re going to have this week and it’s _delicious_.”

Lucas hung his head and moved the broccoli in his plate distractedly. He was trying to keep up with the conversation, grumbling in approval at the appropriate moments and trying to engage whenever he could, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was being watched. The house was making him extremely uneasy, and he kept glancing around every few seconds, dread curling at his insides.

He knew the guys had noticed his odd behaviour, what with Yann and Arthur throwing him concerned looks every now and then but neither one of them had brought it up yet. Lucas really didn’t want them to breach the subject.

What would he say? That he had seen a very pale looking man in his room? A man that didn’t seem very alive? They wouldn’t take him seriously and Lucas wasn’t even sure he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing altogether.

He felt Yann’s stare on him, and he looked up. “Uh?” he mumbled.

Yann pointed at Lucas’ plate with his chin, “Are you okay? You haven’t eaten much.”

Lucas lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m good, don’t worry. I’m just not that hungry. It’s really good though, your mom would be proud,” he said in a cheerful voice, trying to sound convincing.

Yann narrowed his eyes, observing Lucas’ face attentively. He nodded, although the cautious twist in his mouth told Lucas he wasn’t entirely off the hook. “If you say so.”

Lucas smiled tightly and looked at his plate. He stabbed some broccoli with his fork and brought it to his mouth without much enthusiasm. Lucas couldn’t deny it, the food was good, mouth-wateringly so, but his heart simply wasn’t in it. His nerves were distracting him from being fully in the moment, incapable of truly appreciating the taste of Yann’s meal or his friends’ company.

His back felt sore and he wiggled tentatively on his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. He glanced discreetly at his friends, none of them paying attention to him, their gaze focused on Basile who was speaking animatedly with his hands.

A sudden movement in the window caught his eyes and Lucas could’ve sworn it had looked like a figure of a man passing by… or behind him. He gasped and turned his head around. When he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, he shook his head and tried to calm his breathing down.

Was it the weed? Surely it was the weed.

Or maybe something outside, in the garden?

Damn, Lucas thought, thinking of someone observing him from outside wasn’t comforting in the least. Nobody else but them could access the garden and the thought of it send cold shivers down his spine.

What if the man wasn’t the only one? What if there were more of him?

Lucas felt like he was about to be sick and without noticing it, he had tensed on his seat, his hand a tight fist around his fork and his skittish behaviour had grabbed the attention of his friends who were staring at him suspiciously. He felt a hand shake his shoulder, effectively taking him out of his internal freak-out.

When Lucas realised his friends were all looking at him, he smiled as brightly as he could.

“Mosquitoes, heh? I hate mosquitoes,” he stuttered awkwardly, putting up a show of waving his hands around as if he was chasing bugs away from him.

Arthur shot him a perplexed look. “Right,” he said unconvincingly as he wrapped his hand around his beer bottle and brought it to his mouth. 

Lucas lowered his eyes to his meal.

He needed to relax. This was all in his head.

Lucas breathed out slowly and rubbed his eyes with his hand.

Everything was fine, he told himself as he forced a forkful of broccoli into his mouth.

Just fine.

\---

Lucas was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes. He was trying to sleep, but his mind kept going back to the man he had thought he’d seen in his room and closing his eyes was the last thing he wanted.

Or could do.

A part of him felt like he was in a horror movie, where he was the one having to survive against an unknown entity that could want him dead. Sure, a better part of him thought he had imagined that whole encounter, but deep down, he knew that he had not. 

Horror movies usually made him laugh because Lucas couldn’t really take them seriously. First off, the characters always made the most stupid decisions that always led them to a horrible death but most of all, Lucas didn’t believe any of it could happen in real life. Lucas believed in science and facts and he liked stories that spoke about the supernatural because it usually took him out of his daily life, out of his reality which wasn’t always the best.

In horror movies, none of it was real.

Here, it felt a little too real.

He turned around on his bed, exposing his back and when that thought hit him, he went back to his initial position, unwilling to give anyone the opportunity to attack him from behind. He felt like a prey to an unpredictable predator hidden in the shadows and all his survival instincts seemed to have kicked in, driving his actions.

The whole house was silent, eerily so and Lucas completely understood how Basile had felt during their first night. How did his friend even manage to go to sleep when Lucas’ whole being felt so unsettled and jittery?

The air shifted around him and Lucas’ inhaled sharply, the hair on his arms and legs raising. He caught a movement from the corner of his eyes and brought the covers up to his nose, hiding half of his face, his eyes moving wildly to his left to find where the man was.

Because it was him, Lucas was sure of it, but the obscurity in the room made it hard for him to see anything clearly.

After a few minutes in silence, the man not moving an inch beside him, Lucas suddenly felt like he was done being scared. If those horror movie characters were whimpering mess, Lucas wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

“I know you’re here,” he grunted, his voice muffled by the covers and he pushed them away angrily, his body moving to an aggressive stance as he sat down, flushing his back against the head of the bed. His fists were clenched tightly around the covers and he almost bared his teeth, feeling like a wounded animal.

He heard the man move to his left and Lucas flinched as he curled up, pulling his legs to his chest.

“Don’t you dare come near me,” he groaned warningly as he moved an arm slowly under the covers, trying to reach his phone which was laying under his pillow. “Who the _fuck_ are you?” he demanded, his voice harsh and heated.

The man didn’t reply, seemingly observing Lucas from the shadows and Lucas’ stomach twisted.

What was this dude’s deal? What did he want from him?

Lucas’ fingers finally touched his phone and he grabbed it, his eyes not moving from where Lucas thought the man was. He rubbed his hand on the covers, noticing how sweaty his palm was and he unlocked his phone with a touch of his thumb, the light glowing dimly under the covers.

He brought his phone in front of his face, wielding it like a weapon and he lit the area where the man was, secretly hoping it would blind him.

Lucas felt his stomach drop when his eyes took in the man who was staring at him with an impassive face. He let out a shaky exhale and gritted his teeth. A yelp escaped his mouth when the man took a few steps towards him, his gaze steady and cold.

“I said don’t move!” Lucas spat and the man stopped by the feet of the bed, his brows furrowed.

“You can see me,” he stated in a tone Lucas couldn’t interpret, and Lucas’ eyebrow raised on his forehead at the sound of his voice which was soft and surprisingly normal for whatever that man was. 

Lucas shook his head, the hold he had on his phone tightening slightly. “Of course, I can,” he retorted, his voice wavering. “I’m not fucking blind.”

The man shot him a curious look. “You are not supposed to see me.”

“Uh…” Lucas stuttered, taken aback. “Well you’re not supposed to be in my room,” he snapped with a defiant glare.

The man glanced around the room. “Technically, this room belongs to me. What my family did with it… Is not really to my liking, I must admit,” he stated flatly.

Lucas’ mouth dropped open. “What? Really?” he said, stunned and he shook his head, feeling that the situation was slipping away from his grasp.

Here he was, trying to prove he was not some damsel in distress who would cower in fear and this guy wanted to talk about the decoration?

“I mean, that’s not the point. Who are you?” he asked again, his tone pointed and demanding.

The man shrugged. “I am Eliott de Maury. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he introduced himself then he bowed elegantly.

Lucas felt the corner of his lips twitch and he swallowed a laugh, feeling like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

So, Arthur’s story was real after all, Lucas thought. This was the infamous Eliott, a guy who had died nearly 200 years ago.

Supposedly.

What the hell was going on?

“And you are?” Eliott inquired as he sat on the bed, looking up at him expectantly.

Lucas grumbled lowly, the desire to tell him to piss off on the tip of his tongue but he held it in, glaring warningly instead. This Eliott didn’t seem threatening at all after all, not after his whining over the decoration, Lucas realised. 

However, Lucas had to agree with him. The flowery wallpaper was clearly out of fashion and the pictures of ducks were just not Lucas’ cup of tea, no matter how much he had laughed when he had first seen the state of that room.

At least that ghost had good taste, Lucas thought. He looked Eliott up and down and frowned.

Well, kinda.

Lucas let his head fall back against the headboard. “Lucas. I’m Lucas,” he mumbled, and he ran a hand through his hair trying to understand when he had started to lose his mind. Was it on the day they had arrived in the house? Was it before? Or had he been dreaming this whole vacation and was actually in his bed in the flat share?

Lucas sighed deeply and dropped his phone on the bed, unclasping his hand from his covers. “Are you going to kill me?” he asked. “If it’s because I sing in the shower, I can stop.” He lifted his head and brought it closer to Eliott with a pointed look. “I’m not opposed to making deals. I don’t sing, you don’t kill, sounds good?” he whispered.

Eliott’s eyes widened in surprise and he shook his head vehemently, his hair not moving an inch on his head. “Pardon me? I do not want to kill you. Who do you take me for?”

“Is it Basile’s snores then? I can knock him out for you and make him sleep in the garden,” Lucas offered with a hesitant smile.

Eliott shot him a confused look and Lucas closed his mouth, lowering his eyes to his hands.

“I am _not_ going to kill you,” Eliott repeated, adamant. After a brief silence, he added, “Or Basile for that matter. Which one is he?”

Lucas craned his neck to observe Eliott. “The curly one.” He wiggled and sat up more comfortably. “So, can you explain what you’re doing in my roo-, whatever, here?” he asked and he switched his phone to flashlight mode when darkness filled the room again.

He felt a little more at ease but in no way was he letting this Eliott out of his sight.

“I am curious about you,” Eliott replied with an intense stare.

“I’m flattered,” Lucas muttered sarcastically. “But like… Can you be curious during the day? Or better, write me a letter,” he suggested with a tight grin.

Eliott stared him down for a moment, ignoring Lucas’ reply.

“You are the first one,” he stated seriously.

Lucas sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “First what?” he asked.

Eliott gave him a smile, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “I have been in this state for a long time and no one has ever seen me like this. Until you,” he explained.

Oh, Lucas thought, that must suck. Somehow, he envied Eliott for being able to be invisible but judging by Eliott’s face, it didn’t seem to be that great of an experience.

He shot him a careful look. “Ah…” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.” Eliott gave him a small grin. “So, it’s true then. You really are dead?” Lucas continued.

Eliott lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I guess you could say that. I am not sure what I am exactly. A spirit? A ghost? Your guess is as good as mine,” he mused.

Lucas hummed. “Arthur told us about you. I thought it was a load of crap, but now… I can’t believe this is real. I’m dreaming, right?”

“I am afraid not,” Eliott said and his mouth seemed to tighten.

Lucas nodded. The tip of his tongue was burning with curiosity and the words went out of his mouth before he could stop them. “What happened to you?” He froze and realising how insensitive he was being, he added hesitantly, “I mean… Can you tell me… Please?”

Eliott observed Lucas for a moment. “I am not sure I can,” he admitted.

Lucas furrowed his brows, wondering what Eliott was hiding then he yawned, his mouth opening wide which he barely covered with his hand. “Sorry,” he quickly said, lowering his eyes.

Eliott smiled mysteriously. “I am going to let you sleep. I will talk to you some other time,” he declared and he got up and made a move towards the door, making Lucas perk up.

“So… I’ll see you again?” he asked, unsure if he was looking forward to it or not. A part of him felt curious now that the shock of meeting with Eliott had worn out but a bigger part of him didn’t really want him to seek him out again. The situation was completely insane, and Lucas wasn’t entirely convinced any of this was real. For all he knew, Eliott could be a lunatic who infiltrated random people’s home to scare them away and then rob them of their prized possessions.

Or maybe Lucas had been sleeping this whole time.

“I have never been able to leave this house,” Eliott replied vaguely, not really giving the answer Lucas was looking for. They stared at each other for a moment and then Eliott smiled gently. “Goodnight, Lucas.”

With those last words, Eliott vanished from Lucas’ sight.

Lucas pushed his head back, startled before he let his body slip back into a laying position, closing his eyes without being able to fight it.

A few minutes later, he was deep asleep, exhausted by the day’s rollercoaster of emotions.

\---

Basile was undoubtedly the most unfiltered person he had ever met, Lucas decided with a disgusted face as Basile rambled on and on about the time he had worked at a retirement home.

To say that Lucas was shocked by what he was hearing was a euphemism. Having to help some of them get clean wasn’t that much of a surprise, but who knew old people could be such nymphomaniacs? Lucas certainly did not, at least until now.

He honestly could’ve lived his entire life in blissful ignorance, but thanks to Basile, he could now tell with an amazing accuracy the night Bernadette, 82, had had sex with both Marcel, 75, and Louis, 86, in the toilets of the retirement home’s staff.

Truly amazing.

He glanced at Arthur who was watching Basile with a curious look, as if he was trying to understand the way their friend’s mind worked. He was clearly at loss for words however, because a moment later he turned to Lucas and shot him a pained smile, his eyes screaming his distress.

“Sorry Baz, you lost,” Yann said beside Lucas, successfully interrupting Basile’s monologue.

Lucas sighed in relief, glad for the break.

They had been playing several rounds of Tarot in the garden, and Basile had managed to lose every single one of them. 

“What?” Basile exclaimed as he shot out of his seat and grabbed the paper Yann had used to calculate the results. He glanced at it and glared, grumbling, “Fuck. I hate this game.” He tossed the paper on the table and pushed the cards laying in from of him away with a pout. He sat back down and crossed his arms, a deep frown on his face.

Yann rolled his eyes. “Dude, in this case, don’t say you’ll take it. We’re three against you, of course you’re going to get wrecked. Have you seen your cards? You had almost no faces,” he deadpanned, pointing at the cards on the table.

“Yeah, but I had the 21!” Basile retorted, grabbing the card with the number 21 in his hand and shaking it to prove his point.

“Not enough, bro,” Yann replied, lifting his shoulder in a casual shrug. “Anyway, pay up. You’re last on the scoreboard.”

Basile sighed and wiggled on his seat, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. He dumped his wallet in front of him and with a sigh, he took out three 2-euros coins and dropped one of each in front of his friends.

He looked up with a serious face and stated firmly, “I want my revenge.”

Arthur snorted but nodded in agreement. “I’m in. I’m surprised you still want your ass kicked,” he teased, moving his eyebrows playfully.

Lucas pushed his chair back and got on his feet. “Sorry guys, I have to pee. Start without me,” he told his friends and he started moving away before they could speak.

“We need to be four!” Basile exclaimed. Lucas stopped and turned his head around.

“I don’t know Baz, read them their future? Those cards are good for it right?” Lucas said with an uninterested look.

Yann’s shoulders shook in laughter. “Come on, man, he’s leaving for 2 mins,” he told Basile and he craned his neck to look at Lucas. “We can wait.”

Lucas nodded and turned on his heels, stepping towards the house, his full bladder making him speed up his initially slow pace. When he was almost at the door, he heard Yann call out after him.

“Lu! Can you bring back some beers?” he said in a booming voice and Lucas gave him a thumbs up without looking back, continuing his trip to the restroom that was located on the main floor by the living room.

The house was a bit colder than outside and he felt the hair on his legs rise as he walked through the living room. He got inside the washroom and closed the door behind him.

Once he was done, he quickly washed his hands and turned to the door, opening it distractedly. Instead of facing a wall, he found himself facing someone. He yelped loudly and took a step back, his back almost hitting the white cabinet, eyes round in surprise.

“Fuck! Don’t do that!” he exclaimed, bringing a hand to his chest, his heart beating wildly under his palm. “You like to knock, right? That would’ve been a **_great_** moment to do it.”

Eliott, because it was him, gave him a contrite smile. “Hello, Lucas,” he said in greetings, and Lucas rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, hi,” he answered back in a clipped tone. “Did you need something?”

Eliott wiggled on his feet for a moment, clearly nervous, and Lucas could almost see the cogs turning in his head. “Actually, yes,” Eliott finally said.

“Okay?” Lucas replied, narrowing his eyes as he dragged the letters out. He looked Eliott up and down and added, “Do you mind if I leave the toilets first? This feels … weird.”

“Oh… Yes, pardon me.” Eliott stepped back and Lucas realised Eliott didn’t have an actual body and that he could’ve easily move passed him, or through him, for a lack of a better word. Thinking of Eliott as a ghost was one thing, but it was hard remembering it when Eliott looked so real.

Well, minus the pasty white skin and the weird glow.

They moved to the living room and Lucas glanced at the window, remembering his friends were waiting for him outside.

“Let’s go somewhere a bit more private. The guys don’t know about you,” he informed him quietly and Eliott nodded, stepping away from Lucas.

He headed to a door down the corridor, inviting Lucas to follow him with a tilt of his head. He went through it a moment later and Lucas almost tried to do the same when he remembered that he wasn’t a ghost himself.

Duh.

He facepalmed internally and wrapped his hand around the knob, opening the door and revealing a cosy reading room with a piano sitting at the centre.

“Oh,” he whispered, stepping to the piano with a soft look. He hadn’t played in a while and his fingertips tingled at the desire to caress the black and white keys.

“Do you play?” Eliott asked behind him, shaking Lucas out his reverie.

He turned his head to him, startled and shook his head, slipping his hand through his messy brown hair.

“Not anymore.” He glanced around the room, noticing a filled to the brim bookshelf, some books looking old and rundown and some comfortable looking armchairs. He hesitated for an instant before he moved to the nearest armchair and flopped down on it.

“So… What do you want?” he asked bluntly as he crossed his arms in front of his chest almost defensively.

Eliott cleared his throat and lowered his head, swaying on his feet. Lucas noticed he looked very small like this and he wondered how he had thought for one second that Eliott was threatening.

“I am sorry for asking you such a thing, but you might be my only hope,” Eliott started in a murmur. He stepped to the window and turned his back to Lucas, staring outside. Lucas couldn’t see his face and it made him instantly weary.

“Hope for what?” he asked.

Eliott didn’t reply right away and then turned his head around, gazing at Lucas with an almost pained look. Lucas’ stomach clenched and he sat up straighter in his seat, observing him closely.

“To leave, Eliott whispered and he moved to the bookcase, caressing the books slowly. Somehow, Lucas believed Eliott probably couldn’t really feel their texture. 

To leave?

“To leave this house?” Lucas guessed with furrowed brows.

Eliott shook his head. “Not just this house,” he said, turning his body to face Lucas. He seemed to hold his breath in, which, when Lucas thought about it, didn’t make much sense considering Eliott was dead and didn’t need to breathe at all. Or did he?

“One would think eternity is a blessing…” Eliott trailed off, his face morphing into a disheartened sneer. “Trust me, it is a curse,” he stated, his eyes looking away and Lucas noticed his shoulder drop.

He frowned, momentarily confused about what Eliott wanted exactly before understanding washed over him.

“You… You want to die for real,” Lucas said.

Eliott nodded.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Lucas didn’t know what he could possibly do about Eliott’s situation. Sure, he was able to see him, which was in all honesty quite disturbing, but it wasn’t as if he was meeting and helping ghosts every other day. This was completely uncharted territory.

He stared at Eliott, noticing the tiredness behind his blue eyes.

Lucas cleared his throat and asked, “You never answered me. What happened to you?”

Eliott hesitated, “I died.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Lucas muttered sarcastically then in a louder voice he said, “Do you remember how?”

Eliott hesitated, “I do not. I have retained… I gather you could say memories of my life, but it is more…,” he trailed off, looking for his words. He looked around for a moment. “More like sounds and images, not concrete moments of my past. I think the best way I can explain it is walking through a heavy fog. You can see some sorts of shapes around you but can never grasp it completely.” He paused and he stepped away from the bookcase, stopping near the piano.

“I barely remember Mother’s face,” Eliott admitted, the corner of his lips pulling downwards. “I can picture the colour of her hair, the shape of her nose, but the rest is blurred.”

Lucas observed him pensively, his brows furrowed. “So… You’re basically amnesiac,” he murmured, his mind racing.

What was he supposed to do? How was he even supposed to help when he had so little to build on?

Eliott only replied with a nod, an apologetic grin on his lips.

“And you want me to help you,” Lucas added, his frown deepening.

Eliott nodded again and took a step towards Lucas.

Lucas followed Eliott’s movement with his eyes attentively. He hesitated then ran a hand through his messy brown locks. “Can I ask you a question?”

Eliott shrugged, encouraging him to do whatever he wanted with a wave of his hand. “Of course.”

Lucas chewed on his lip. He knew what he wanted to ask was a bit nosy, but it was burning the tip of his tongue. “I hope I don’t offend you… But… The knocks, the sounds you make… How do you do that?”

“Is that your offensive question?” Eliott retorted with a small smile and Lucas shrugged. “I do not really know. I cannot actually touch or feel anything.”

“You can’t? But…” Lucas trailed off, frowning in confusion.

Surely there was something Eliott did that made those sounds, although, thinking about it more seriously, nothing happening these days made any sense anyway. A dead man haunting a house was already far-fetched and Lucas didn’t really feel like nit-picking about the finer details.

“No.” Eliott sat down in the armchair next to Lucas’. “It is one of the things I cannot explain. The closest thing I can compare it to is breathing. It is not something you really think about, do you? It is purely unconscious. It is the same for me. I have always been able to let people know about my presence, but I cannot touch anything that is living. Life is in everything around you, in the wood, in the metal, in the air, in the skin of one’s body…” he trailed off.

Eliott hesitated and then lifted his hand, bringing it close to Lucas’ cheek. “Can I?” he murmured, pointing to Lucas’ face with a lift of his chin.

Lucas nodded and waited for Eliott’s skin to touch his. He glanced at Eliott from under his eyelashes and noticed his disappointed grin.

Oh.

It dawned on him that Eliott’s hand was on his skin, but that Lucas couldn’t feel it.

“See?” Eliott said softly. “I cannot feel you either.”

Lucas nodded, an apologetic smile on his lips.

“I must admit I was hoping it would work for once,” Eliott confessed and he brought his hand back to his lap.

“I’m sorry,” Lucas mumbled, lowering his eyes to Eliott’s hands.

They stayed silent for a moment, Lucas observing Eliott with a pensive face. Lucas didn’t know what he could do, but something deep inside told him he had to try. Maybe it was the scientist in him who wanted nothing more than to understand how Eliott’s situation worked but mostly, Lucas realised he was probably Eliott’s best option if not the _only_ option he had ever had.

It worried him in some ways. What if he failed?

But what if he succeeded?

Lucas opened his mouth and with a determined look he said, “I want to help you.”

“Do you?” Eliott asked, his face glowing hopefully.

Lucas nodded. “I don’t know what I can do to be honest…” he admitted. “But trust me, I’ll try.”

Eliott grinned, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

\----

When Lucas went back to the guys, cold beers in hands, his friends stared at him suspiciously.

“Did you drown in it or something?” Arthur asked with a frown. “You’ve been gone for like half an hour.”

Lucas shrugged unapologetically and dropped the beers on the table. “My mom called, I had to take it,” he explained and Arthur nodded in understanding.

“How is she?” Yann asked as he grabbed a beer bottle and took off the cap with his lighter.

“She’s great.” Lucas pulled his seat back and sat down. “Now, where were we?” he inquired, letting his eyes wander across the table, noticing the cards still messily scattered.

He glanced discreetly at Arthur. If anyone could help with Eliott’s situation, it was him.

Now he just needed to convince him that this was real.

And it wasn’t going to be easy.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys ^^
> 
> So here goes, Part 2 of my "OS". It's a bit longer than Part 1 and probably the "lighter" section but those scenes were needed to really build and thicken the plot.
> 
> Honestly, this story is my way of trying my hand in a genre I'm really not familiar with, so any criticism is greatly appreciated ^^
> 
> Part 3 should be up sometime next week as I'm still working on it.
> 
> Enjoy ^^

For a reason that was now escaping him, Lucas had thought that searching for answers on the Internet was a good idea. 

In all fairness it probably was. After all Internet was a bottomless pit of information of all kinds, and it had been very useful when he needed to find summaries of books he didn’t want to read for French class in High School or articles about psychology for his Uni essays. 

Sadly, for such peculiar matter, Internet was a bottomless pit of conspiracy theories, ghost stories that stank of bullshit and trolls in dire need of attention. He had been scrolling through numerous articles, the next one making him roll his eyes even more than the previous ones to the point where, after spending the whole day doing detective work, he, a child of the Internet, had nothing substantial to help him on his quest.

Well, except for burning sage apparently.

And Lucas didn’t even know what that looked like.

He looked up when Arthur dropped an object made of glass in the kitchen and he heard him curse loudly, his voice filled with annoyance.

A moment later, Arthur poked his head out of the kitchen and stared at Lucas with an innocent look that made Lucas laugh out loud.

“Need a hand?” he asked once he had calmed himself down, the corner of his lips twitching in barely contained hilarity.

Arthur shot him a glare then nodded pitifully. “Can you find me a dustpan? I can’t get my hands on it. I think it’s in one of those,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the other end of the living room where two old looking closets were proudly standing.

Lucas nodded and stood up, dropping his phone on the coffee table in front of him. He stretched, noticing how sore his back and neck were and stepped to one of the closets.

He opened it and frowned, wondering why everything in this house was so dusty then pulled out a dirty looking dustpan. He moved to the kitchen where Arthur was busy sweeping the floor with a bright red broom, small shatters of glass clustering around the same area.

Lucas took in the state of the room. That night was Arthur’s turn to cook and he apparently had opted for pasta, half of which had fallen on the floor. Lucas lifted his eyes to Arthur, amusement written all over his face. He cleared his throat, making Arthur look up.

Arthur gave him a sheepish grin, stopping all movements. “Grandma’s going to kill me. I destroyed her favourite baking tray...” he said, wincing.

Lucas lifted an eyebrow. “How did you do that? You don’t need a baking tray for pasta,” Lucas observed as he stepped into the room.

“Be careful! There’s a ton of glass on the floor!” Arthur exclaimed, moving his hands in a stopping gesture and Lucas complied, staying on the same spot. “And it was right under the sieve in the cupboard, I pulled it too fast and BAM.”

“What about that?” Lucas asked, pointing at the pasta with his chin.

“Collateral damage?” Arthur suggested. When he noticed Lucas’ amused stare, he retorted, “I panicked, okay? I don’t like the kitchen. It makes me feel self-conscious and uncoordinated. I only like going in there when I can steal stuff from the fridge.”

Lucas threw his head back and laughed, highly entertained by Arthur’s explanation.

Arthur huffed. “Do you mind?” he asked, pointing at the dustpan Lucas was holding. Lucas nodded and crouched down, the corner of his lips curling at the look on Arthur’s face.

When Arthur’s mess was clean, Lucas got on his feet, brushing off Arthur’s thanks with a wave of his free hand and he went to the bin, dropping the content of the dustpan carefully. Lucas took a step towards the counter and hesitated briefly. He felt that this was the ideal moment to bring Eliott’s situation up as they were alone in the house, Yann and Basile being busy playing badminton in the garden.

But how was he supposed to go about it?

“Uh, Arthur?” he said in a tentative voice, leaning his hip against the counter.

Arthur lifted a finger. “Just a sec,” he murmured.

He inspected the small pot filled with sauce and turned off the heat. He turned to the pasta before grabbing a fork and rolling a spaghetti around it, messing up a few times before he finally managed to lock one in. He brought it to his mouth and made a face. “Heh, a little overcooked but it should do.” He pointed at the sieve with his chin. “Can you help me real’ quick?”

Lucas nodded and lifted the sieve over the sink, holding on tight as Arthur dropped the pasta in. Lucas winced as the warm steam hit the skin of his hand and he let out a small hiss as pain shot up his arm.

“Fuck. Don’t go that fast, next time,” he said in a pained voice as he emptied the drained pasta in the pot. He turned the cold water on and threw his hands under, hoping it would cool it off.

He turned off the tap and shook his hands over the sink before wiping them on the back of his shorts a moment later.

“Sorry,” Arthur murmured beside him.

Lucas shot him a dark look and grumbled under his breath. He looked away briefly. “Can I talk to you now?”

Arthur nodded, leaning against the counter with a curious look.

Lucas took a deep breath and said tentatively, “Okay… I know this is going to be hard to believe… But it’s about Eliott.”

“Eliott? As in my great-great-,” Arthur started and Lucas cut him off quickly, rolling his eyes.

He got it the first time around. No need for a repeat.

“Yes, the one and only,” Lucas sighed.

“Okay? What about him?” Arthur inquired, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Lucas hesitated and then, deciding honesty was the best policy he said, “He’s real.”

He observed Arthur’s reaction attentively. He knew his friend wasn’t going to believe him right away, but a part of him hoped it could be enough. Lucas wasn’t the type of person to make that sort of thing up and Arthur was well aware of it.

Arthur’s brows furrowed, and he shot him a confused look. “Uh...” he trailed off, staring at Lucas as if he had grown a second head. “I know?”

Lucas shook his head and clarified, “You don’t understand. Your story, you know, the one about him haunting the house? It’s real.”

“Sure ...” Arthur drawled, his eyes filled with amusement. “You know it’s just a myth, right? Eliott died decades ago -excuse me- _centuries_ ago, of course it’s not real.”

“Except it is. I’ve seen him.” Lucas pushed himself away from the counter and started pacing the room. The hard part was beginning, and he needed to think quickly.

What did Mika always say? You can’t convince anyone with reason, you have to go for the emotion?

Lucas was a rational guy, how in the hell was he supposed to do that?

He turned his back to Arthur and murmured, “I’ve seen his ghost, Arthur.”

There was a tense silence and Arthur broke it when he repeated flatly, “You’ve seen his ghost.”

“Yes,” Lucas replied confidently.

“Okay,” Arthur said with a nod. “Alas, you figured out the Broussard’ family secret,” he continued with a dramatic voice, bringing his hand to his forehead as if he was fawning over himself. “Once we die, we all become ghosts. Do you want to meet Hector? My great-grand-father?”

Lucas narrowed his eyes, unsure if Arthur was pulling his leg or not. “What? Are you for real?”

Arthur shook his head. “Of course not!” he retorted. “Just like Eliott, he’s not a ghost, he’s just dead.”

Lucas rolled his eyes, annoyance creeping up on him. “I’ve seen him a few times already. I even talked to him. _Twice,_” Lucas explained between gritted teeth.

Arthur shot him a worried look. “Lucas… Are you okay? Do you get enough sleep?”

“Arthur! I’m not making this up!” Lucas insisted, lifting his hands up in the air.

“How can I believe that? I’m sorry but you’re talking about a dead guy. This isn’t the Shining or… Or Ghost – a Gay Love Story, you know, like in the original they have Demi whatever her name is and that other dude but with gay dudes instead.” Arthur shot back.

Lucas startled and narrowed his eyes in confusion.

A gay love story?

What?

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dude, you’re not listening to me. Eliott is real and if you won’t believe me, I’ll-.” he trailed off hesitantly.

He’ll what?

Think emotion. Fear was an emotion. If Arthur didn’t believe Lucas’ words, he would believe Eliott was here.

He cleared his throat. “Eliott? Can you come… Please?” He called hesitantly.

Eliott had the tendency to show up totally unannounced and spook him, and for once Lucas would really appreciate it if Eliott could amuse him and pop up.

He owed him this much. 

He felt the air in the room shift, and Lucas shuddered, memories of the night he had talked to Eliott for the first time coming back to him. He looked at the doorway, noticing Eliott who was staring at him with a small grin.

“Good evening, Lucas,” he said and Lucas shot him a tight smile.

Yep, still not used to it. 

Lucas shook his head. “Eliott! Thank you for coming. I’m trying to prove to this guy that you’re here.” He said, pointing at Arthur with his thumb.

“See?” Lucas cheered triumphantly.

Arthur turned his head around. “That wall looks lovely,” he stated sarcastically.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever,” he grumbled before glancing at Eliott. “Eliott… Please do something. He won’t believe me.”

Eliott nodded and a second later, he knocked softly on the counter right beside Arthur’s hand.

Arthur flinched and jumped back in surprise. “Lucas, I know it’s you.” He exclaimed, his voice barely hiding his frustration.

Lucas raised his hands. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t move.”

Arthur shot him a warning look. “No, it was you, stop it already.”

Lucas groaned and felt like banging his head against a wall.

If emotion wasn’t working, what would?

Lucas ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fine, you know what? Fine! Let’s play a little game then. Eliott is going to move around the kitchen and before he knocks, you’re going to look at me. I’ll stay right here-” he said, taking a step back and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Just like this. And I’ll tell you where he is in the room, okay?” he gritted out, exasperated.

Arthur huffed but nodded, nonetheless. Lucas could see there was some doubts in his eyes, no matter how adamant he was about not believing him, and he glanced at Eliott who had moved to the fridge. 

“He’s by the fridge,” he told Arthur who kept his stare locked on Lucas and a second later Eliott knocked on the door of the fridge, making Arthur widen his eyes.

“Okay, okay. How are you doing this?” he said, narrowing his eyes in suspicion but Lucas noted he wasn’t so confident anymore. “Did you put something in there? Is that it?”

“I didn’t do anything. It’s Eliott.” Lucas smirked. “Now it’s your turn.”

Arthur frowned. “What, my turn?” he asked.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Well since you think I faked it, tell him to go somewhere. See for yourself,” he explained.

Arthur gritted his teeth. “Fine. Over there,” he pointed at the bay window.

Eliott stepped to window and knocked on the glass.

“Fuck… I... What the fuck?” Arthur exclaimed, staring at the window, his face white. “The door,” he said.

A knock.

Arthur exhaled shakily and snapped his head to Lucas. “Lucas, what was the name of my great-grand-mother?” he said, his tone urgent.

Lucas frowned, confused by the question. “Huh… How the fuck should I know?”

Arthur gestured vaguely at the door, his eyes a little wild. “Ask _him_ if he’s really here!”

Lucas rolled his eyes but turned his head to look at Eliott, raising an eyebrow.

Eliott contemplated his answer for a moment. “Rose-Marie, I think? No, Marie-Rose,” he suggested with uncertainty.

Lucas bit his lip and glancing back at Arthur, he said, “Uh… Marie-Rose?”

Arthur gasped. “Fuuuck … You swear you’re not pulling a shitty prank on me right now?”

Lucas nodded eagerly, glad that Arthur was finally giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Arthur fell back against the counter, his face pale. “Holy shit. Grandma’s not going to believe her story is real. This is insane,” he muttered, running a trembling hand through his hair.

Lucas’ mouth curled in an amused smile and he nodded. “I know!” he exclaimed. “It really, really is.”

“But wait. Why do you see him, and I don’t? _I’m_ his family, _you’re_ just a stranger.” Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes.

Lucas lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “We don’t know. We’re trying to figure this out,” he explained with a quick glance at Eliott who was observing the two of them quietly.

Arthur’ eyes were round in excitement. “What does he look like? Does he wear a white bedsheet with holes in it over his head?” he wondered, biting on his lip to contain a squeal. “Man, this is so cool.”

Lucas shook his head. “Uh... He’s not.” He paused, searching for a way to explain everything without sounding like a complete madman. “He’s taller than both of us? He looks like you and me… Just, uh, his natural colours are very dull? Like... imagine when you draw something with colour and then you erase it to the point where you only get remnants of it?”

Arthur opened his mouth, his face understanding.

Lucas cleared his throat. “But anyway, it doesn’t matter. Eliott is stuck here, he has been for centuries and I’m trying to help him, but I can’t find shit.”

Arthur tilted his head to the side pensively. “Maybe I can help?” he offered.

“Yeah, that’s why I wanted to talk to you about him,” Lucas explained,“Do you remember any details about your family’s story? Maybe that could help us start somewhere.”

Arthur frowned, and he looked around, his gaze a little hazy. “I don’t think so,” he admitted with an apologetic smile. “I mean, I know this side of the family was filthy rich at some point but… I need to think about it.” He paused. “Maybe I can call my grandma. She might know something,” Arthur continued.

Lucas nodded, disappointed but hopeful, nonetheless. “Sure.” He rubbed his eyes with his hand and glanced at Eliott. “I’ll just keep doing research, I guess.”

What was that saying against? Stronger together?

Lucas wasn’t about to give up.

They were only getting started.

\---

“Daphné’s a bit mad we didn’t invite her to come with us,” Basile mumbled in a tired voice, staring at the phone he was hiding on his lap.

Yann frowned. “I thought she was working?” he stated, confused.

Basile sighed. “That’s what I said! But then she started saying that it doesn’t matter if she couldn’t come. We should have at least _offered,_” he said, miming quotation marks with his fingers.

Lucas snorted and hid his smirk behind his mug as Basile turned his head to look at him.

He pointed at Lucas with his thumb and exclaimed, “See? Even Lucas agrees. _She_ knew she couldn’t come. _We_ knew she couldn’t come, so why even bother?”

Yann nodded pensively. “So… You guys are talking again? It’s been what? Three months now?”

Basile lowered his eyes to the table, his hands nervously tearing off breadcrumbs. “Almost three, yeah. And yes, we’re talking again, and I mean, it’s still a bit weird but I get it. We stayed a long time together and I know most couples don’t really last after high school but...” He shrugged and glanced at Yann. “How long did it take for you to get over Chloé?”

Yann raised an eyebrow and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I dumped her,” he said as if it explained everything.

Basile shook his head and put an elbow on the table, leaning his chin against his palm. “Doesn’t mean it was easier for you to get back on track.”

“True.” Yann acknowledged. “But in all honesty, I was over us, over her, a few months before we broke up, I just… It took me a bit to realise I didn’t love her like that anymore and then I guess I got used to that idea. So, when I dumped her, I was not exactly ready to move on, but I didn’t need that much time either.”

Lucas nodded and pipped up, “You’re going to be fine. Right now, it sucks but we’re here to get you drunk and high, and help you not think about it.”

Basile shot him a flat look. “I was about to tell you to piss off, mister My-only-relationship-lasted-4-months, but that was surprisingly nice of you.”

Lucas threw him a dark glare. “It’s not because it lasted 4 months that it wasn’t meaningful. We just didn’t have shit to say to each other after a while.” A smile stretched his lips and he wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “The sex was fun though.”

Yann cheered beside him and gave him a high-five.

Basile grew pensive and he glanced at Lucas curiously, whispering, “Do you think I should try it?”

Lucas scratched his forehead, confused. “To have sex? What? You never slept with Daphné?” he guessed.

Yann threw his head back, a full bellied laugh coming out of his mouth.

Basile’s eyes rounded and he shook his head vehemently. “Of course we had sex!” he exclaimed. “I told you all about it.”

Lucas smirked and brought his mug to his mouth, teasing, “Ah, that’s what you were talking about?”

Basile’s mouth dropped open and he gave Lucas the middle finger. “I was talking about having sex with a dude but whatever,” he muttered with a pinched look.

Lucas startled and choked on his coffee. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m drinking. Fuck!” he exclaimed, losing himself in a coughing fit the second later. Yann patted him on the back and Lucas shot him a thankful look although Yann’s ministrations weren’t helping that much. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to try this,” Yann told Basile, his eyebrows raising on his forehead.

Basile shrugged. “Not really. But if Daphné is experimenting, I should to. That’s what Uni is for, right?”

Lucas breathed-out heavily, his face red. “Sure. But only if you really want to try it. If you’re not _that_ interested-” he trailed off, his voice scratchy. He grabbed his mug and brought it to his mouth, hoping to soothe his sore throat.

“Lucas!” Arthur shouted from inside of the house, barging in the patio with a toothy smile. 

Lucas startled, his mug millimetres away from his opened mouth and he sat there frozen as Arthur ran up to him.

Were his friends on a mission to stop him from staying hydrated or something?

“Lucas, come with me,” he exclaimed, grabbing Lucas’ arm, making a bit of his coffee spill over his shirt. Lucas winced, somewhat relieved his coffee wasn’t piping hot anymore and he didn’t even have the time to protest before he was dragged out of his chair and hurried off inside the house, an over-enthusiastic Arthur babbling in his ear.

“I’ll bring him back to you soon, guys!” Arthur cried out to Yann and Basile who had dumbfounded looks on their faces, having no idea what had just happened.

Arthur pulled him through a hallway and opened a room at the end, pushing Lucas inside quickly.

Lucas grumbled under his breath and shot him a warning look.

“Lucas, what do you see?” Arthur immediately said, staring at Lucas with an eager look, completely ignoring Lucas’ glare.

Lucas glanced around and frowned. “That’s a room,” he stated flatly.

Arthur nodded. “Yes, but also...” he trailed off, both of his eyebrows raising up on his forehead. He stared at him pointedly and Lucas glanced around once again.

“It’s … very pink?” he guessed again and his eyes moved around once more before stopping on an unexpected sight. “What the hell?” he exclaimed, stepping to the wall with a flabbergasted expression. “Is that a real deer?” he asked, turning his head to look at Arthur, his eyes round.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, don’t touch it.”

Lucas took a quick step back, his stomach churning at the sight of the dead animal. “What’s your deal? What is this room?”

“That’s my grand-parents’ bedroom,” Arthur explained flatly.

Lucas glared at him. “And they sleep with _that_?” Lucas cried out, pointing at the deer with an offended look. “What the fuck?”

“Lucas, focus. Look!” Arthur said, and he grabbed Lucas’ arm to bring him to another side of the wall.

Lucas jerked his arm away, tired of being pushed and pulled around like a doll. He lifted his head and instantly noticed a painting of a very familiar face.

His mouth dropped open. “Holy shit. That’s Eliott!” he exclaimed, and he brought his hand closer to the painting, his fingers centimetres away from Eliott’s painted face. “It looks exactly like him,” he whispered in wonder.

“Oh, it does? I wasn’t sure if it was him, but I saw this,” Arthur said pointing at two small letters inscribed at the bottom of the painting.

E M.

“He made that?” Lucas said, surprise colouring his voice. This felt massive and he didn’t even think before yelling, “Eliott!”

Eliott arrived quickly, as if summoned by Lucas’ voice and he frowned when he noticed Lucas’ excited look. “What is going on?” he asked, raising a hesitant eyebrow.

“Eliott! You’re a painter!” Lucas said to him with enthusiasm, his blue eyes bright.

Arthur glanced at Lucas and whispered, “He’s here?”

Lucas merely nodded, indicating Eliott’s location in the room with a tilt of his chin. Arthur straightened and managed to look in the wrong direction, smiling awkwardly to the other wall. Lucas bit on his lower lip to hide an amused grin.

Eliott pushed his head back, apparently confused by what he was hearing. He looked at the painting Lucas was showing him, and his frown deepened.

“I do not remember that. I have been in that room countless times before, but for some reason…” he trailed off, and he stepped to the painting to inspect it. “I never noticed that one before. Are you sure this is mine? It seems a little too precise.”

Lucas hesitated and turned his head to look at Arthur. “How did you know about the painting?” He asked him, moving his eyes back to Eliott who was still observing the painting with a strange look.

Arthur lifted his shoulders in a half shrug and replied, “Grandma told me this morning when I called her. Apparently, there are a few more of these, but they are at the City Hall. Does he recognize it?”

Lucas glanced at Eliott and shook his head. “Not really. He doesn’t remember much from his, uh, living life. Did she tell you if they have more stuff from him in the house?”

Arthur made a face. “Nope. I think the piano here is super old, but not _that_ old. Most of the stuff here is from the 20th century and maybe the late 19th century,” he added in second thoughts. “It’s funny because I knew about that painting, but I completely forgot about it. It’s going to be weird seeing that thing again once Eliott’s gone.”

Lucas nodded before a smile slowly curled his lips. This wasn’t much but at least it was something.

Then it hit him.

He waved his hand, trying to grab Eliott’s attention. “Eliott?” He finally called him when Eliott didn’t react to him gesturing around. Eliott turned his head and gave him a small tentative grin. “What if all you need is to remember? Remember your life, remember what happened to you? Don’t you think it’s weird that you forgot everything?”

Eliott tilted his head, contemplating, “It is odd, I must admit. But I gathered it was part of this life, or after-life. Like starting over with a clean slate.”

Lucas mused over Eliott’s words for a moment and ran a hand through his messy locks.

He looked up, observing him quietly. “Maybe. But you’re still the same man. This is proof of it,” he said, gesturing at the painting. “Maybe the interior is different, but the exterior is still the same. I’m not saying this will work but maybe giving you your memory back can give you your freedom.”

Eliott lowered his eyes.

Arthur stepped closer to Lucas. “What is he saying?” he asked, an excited glint in his brown eyes.

Lucas shrugged. “He’s not saying anything.”

“Ah,” Arthur said with a small nod.

Finally, after a moment that felt way too long, Eliott lifted his chin, a beaming smile slowly stretching his lips. “Yes,” Eliott said decisively, his smile widening even more. “This might work.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Lucas exclaimed, throwing a punch in the air and he stopped himself from jumping in elation. He turned to Arthur. “We’re going to give him his memory back.”

Arthur grinned. “Nice. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting our week here to become any of this, but it’s exciting,” Arthur said, rubbing his hands together. He froze, standing still for a moment. “Uh…” he trailed off, a hesitant look on his face. “Now what?”

Lucas didn’t have to think twice. “City Hall?” he suggested. “Maybe one of the paintings over there can trigger something?”

Arthur nodded and right beside him, Eliott looked happier and more hopeful than Lucas had ever seen him.

Now how in the hell were they going to show him the other paintings when Eliott himself couldn’t leave the house?

\---

Lucas’ eyes were glued to the wall ahead of him. The City Hall was mainly silent, except for the echoes of the voices of Arthur and the energetic woman Arthur was talking to at the front desk. 

After the excitement of their morning discovery, Lucas’ glow was slowly drifting away. Somehow the reality of the situation was catching up with him and filling him with doubts. He was slowly realising how quickly the week was passing by and the pressure was starting to weight down on him.

Lucas didn’t know what he was doing. What had he been thinking when he told Eliott he could do it?

Could he do it?

Lucas sighed and lowered his eyes to his phone.

He bit his lip and nodding internally, he opened his Chrome app. He tapped on the search bar and hesitated.

What was Eliott’s name again? Demaurier?

He titled his head a few times and typed, _Eliot Demaurier painter. _He doubted Eliott had been famous for his craft, but Lucas knew next to nothing about painters except for maybe Picasso, and even then, he mostly knew him by name and didn’t really remember seeing any of his paintings.

So, this was worth a shot.

The page was taking some time to charge, and he shook his phone, hoping it would miraculously help in speeding the process up. After a minute, the first results finally appeared making Lucas frown.

Who the fuck was George Eliot?

He clicked on the link, somewhat hoping it would relate to Eliott. Who knew? Maybe Eliott had used a pen name. However, George turned out to be a British woman who had died in 1880. Lucas sighed and went back to the results page and scrolled down, switching to the next few pages when nothing caught his eyes.

Maybe he had spelled it wrong?

He taped on the search bar again. _Eliot Dem-_

A shadow appeared in front of him and Lucas glanced up, noticing Arthur approaching.

Arthur smiled warmly. “We’re good. Agnès told me most of Eliott’s paintings are in the hallway leading to the Mayor’s office. She gave me a pass, so we don’t get kicked out.”

Lucas locked his phone and slipped it in his pocket. “What did you tell her to get it?” he asked as he stood up.

Arthur shrugged. “Agnès is a friend of my grandma, I’ve known her since I was a kid. I just told her I wanted to see them,” he explained briefly.

Lucas nodded and looked around the brightly lit main hall. “Gotcha. Lead the way?”

Arthur gave him the thumbs up and headed towards the two heavy looking wooden doors. He pushed one open and held it for Lucas before stepping through the hallway, Lucas following close behind.

“I don’t even know if I’ve seen them before to be honest. I never come here,” Arthur acknowledged, looking at Lucas from the corner of his eyes. He cleared his throat and turned left, pushing on another door. “You didn’t tell me how you were planning to do this. Eliott isn’t with us, right?”

Lucas shook his head, messy locks of hair falling over his eyes. He huffed and pushed them away with his hand before replying, “Nah. He can’t leave the house. I don’t even know if he can go in the garden.”

Arthur winced. “Man, that must suck. Can you imagine being locked up for centuries in a house? I’d go crazy, honestly.”

“Yeah, trust me, he doesn’t enjoy it either. I know you can’t see him, but he always looks so withdrawn and just… tired, I guess?” Lucas explained. He cleared his throat and continued, “But that’s kinda the whole point of this. Eliott wants to die for real. It scares me in a way too, to be honest. Where does he want to go after that? What’s waiting for him? Nothing? He’s already dead! Maybe that’s the end of his road.” He groaned. “Fuck, I feel like my brain is going to explode. None of this makes any sense.”

Arthur snorted, nodding along to what Lucas had said. “No kidding, but life doesn’t even make sense either if you think about it,” he mused, his brown eyes wandering across the various doors they were passing. “And, alright, hear me out. There are no other ghosts in the house, right?”

Lucas shrugged. “I haven’t seen them if there are.”

Arthur stopped at the bottom of a staircase and with a sideways glance, he climbed the first step, Lucas following him closely.

How big was this city hall? There was at max two hundred people in that village, Lucas mused with a puzzled frown.

Arthur hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe Eliott died in that house and that’s why you can see him. Maybe other ghosts are stuck in the exact same way, waiting for their Lucas to free them,” Arthur suggested, his breathing a little off as they reached the top of the staircase, slowly moving to another hallway.

Lucas huffed and shot him a warning glare. “If you start comparing me to Harry Potter I swear to God, -”

Arthur rolled his eyes and nudged Lucas in the shoulder. “Chill out, Lulu. I’m just saying that maybe people become ghosts after they die, and they haunt the place where it happened,” he stated plainly.

Lucas winced, not really comforted by that idea. “That’s depressing. I can only imagine hospitals…” he trailed off, furrowing his brows.

“Hey! At _least_ they have company?” Arthur said with a wink and Lucas snorted, amused despite himself.

True, he conceded in his head.

“But the point is, -” Arthur continued, lifting a finger in the air with a serious face. “We don’t know, we can only guess. If Eliott feels he shouldn’t be there, maybe that’s true too, and your- excuse me- _our_ job, is to help him.” He stopped and turned around to put his hands on both of Lucas’ shoulders. “There’s a reason you can see him, we don’t know why and maybe it doesn’t even matter why but might as well use it for good.”

Lucas nodded, lowering his eyes to the ground.

“Do you think we can do it?” he murmured, glancing up with an apprehensive look.

Arthur huffed. “Well, duh! Of course! When there’s a will, there’s a way, or whatever.” He shrugged, taking off his hands of Lucas’ shoulders to wave one around nonchalantly. “And if there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you. You’re smart… Sometimes. But don’t tell the guys I said that because I’ll deny it until I’m on my deathbed. Just saying,” he added with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows.

Lucas shot him a teasing smile. “They already know I’m the smartest one anyway,” he retorted.

“Meh.” Arthur smirked. “That’s debatable.”

He resumed walking. “But all this aside, what’s your plan with the paintings? I’m pretty sure Agnès isn’t going to let us take them back to the house,” he stated with a tight grin.

Lucas took his phone out of his pocket and waved it in front of Arthur’s face. “I thought I’d take pictures.”

“Ah, good thinking,” Arthur said approvingly. “Well, this is it.” He tilted his head towards a hallway where half a dozen paintings were covering the walls.

Lucas exhaled deeply, tightening his hand around his phone. “Let’s do this,” he muttered.

They had no time to waste.

\---

“Honey I’m home,” Arthur chanted playfully as he pushed the front door of the house open. A chorus of cheers erupted from the garden and he glanced at Lucas, whispering, “I love a warm welcome.” He winked and Lucas snorted, shaking his head.

“I think you should tell the guys though, maybe they can help,” Arthur said as he took his shoes off with his feet. “Basile is already halfway convinced the house is haunted. He would believe you in no time. And Yann reads a lot of sci-fi books, no? Maybe he’d have an idea.”

Lucas sighed, lowering his eyes to his hands, “You’re right... I don’t know how though.”

“Tss, of course you do! You convinced _me_. And I’ll be there, I can help,” Arthur offered and he dropped a comforting hand on Lucas’ shoulder. “Now go find your ghost, I think you have some stuff to show him.” He pushed Lucas away from him, shooing him with a wave of his hand.

Lucas nodded and climbed the stairs, going straight for his room. He noted with a pleased smile that Eliott was already there, waiting for him on his bed.

“Good, you’re here,” he said in greetings, closing the door behind him. “How are you feeling?”

Eliott shrugged half-heartedly. “Apprehensive? Excited? If I were alive, I am certain I would be feeling ill.”

Lucas hummed and stepped to the end of the bed, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Don’t worry, I got you.” He paused and tilted his head to the side. “Uh… Can you move over please? I don’t feel like sitting on your lap.”

Eliott smiled amusedly but did as he was told and scooted a few inches away from his original spot.

Lucas sat down and glanced at him curiously. “How do you sit by the way? If you can’t feel anything?”

Eliott gave him a mysterious smile and said, “I am not sitting. It is more like floating, if you will. My body does not feel pain from that position either. I can stand up for days and sit down for just the same amount of time.”

Lucas nodded, understanding. “Ah, okay. I’m kind of envious of that to be honest. If you knew how much my back can hurt from just sitting for a little too long,” Lucas mused distractedly.

He shook his head and held his phone tightly in his grip, remembering what he was here for. “Anyway, there wasn’t a lot of paintings but hopefully, you’ll remember one of them,” he explained. “Memory is a tricky thing and sometimes, the most random and small detail can open the gate.”

He cleared his throat and with a small smile he continued, “So, you did a lot of self-portraits. And other things that I still can’t quite figure out but –” He handed the phone over to Eliott who stared at it, his eyebrows slowly raising on his forehead.

“I cannot hold this, why are you giving it to me?” he stated flatly.

Lucas facepalmed internally.

“Ah, fuck, my bad. So, -” Lucas trailed off, scrolling through his phone to open his Image Gallery. “Now, pictures can’t really do some of your work justice, but ...” He stopped and tapped on the first picture and showed the screen to Eliott. “Here, it’s not very big, but I can zoom in like this...” he said, moving his index and thumb on each side of the screen to enlarge the picture. “… If something grabs your attention.”

Eliott brought his head closer to the screen, observing the picture. The painting was reminiscent of a night sky, heavy strokes of dark to lighter tones of blue and little touches of yellow, red and white colours here and there.

Eliott merely shook his head, inviting Lucas to show him the next one. 

The next picture showed someone hiding behind a wall, the character’s forehead and wild hair poking out of the top of the frame. Lucas didn’t know what to make of this one. It was intriguing but Lucas had trouble understanding what Eliott might have meant when he had painted it.

He glanced at Eliott, observing his reaction closely.

Remember, please remember, Lucas thought. 

Except Eliott didn’t have any specific reaction, staring at it without any recognition. The next three pictures were met with the same fate, Eliott barely reacting to them before moving on to the next one. 

The air was strangely charged and thick, and Lucas couldn’t help but notice that Eliott was becoming more and more closed off.

“Okay, there’s one more,” Lucas explained softly and he craned his neck to look at Eliott. “Are you sure none of them did something to you?” he asked. 

Eliott lowered his head. “I am afraid not. Pardon me, Lucas. Those are all great, but I do not recall any of this. I do not know what I meant to say when I painted them,” Eliott answered in a truthful tone, “Believe me, I am trying.”

Lucas nodded, his shoulder dropping in defeat. “I know you are.” He sighed. “Let’s just look at the last one, okay?” he suggested then swiped left, showing him the last painting.

Lucas remembered that one more than the others. It was of a man, his body completely immerged in water up until his neck. The frame stopped right before his face, but somehow Lucas had understood what was happening. The man seemed to be drowning and Lucas had felt a pang of sympathy when he had noted that the body wasn’t even moving, as if he had given up the fight and had decided to let the water take him.

He heard Eliott’s sharp intake of breath and Lucas glanced at him, noticing how animated his face suddenly was. 

“Oh,” Eliott mumbled, narrowing his eyes as he brought his face closer to the screen. “Could you… Could you make it larger, please?” he asked.

Lucas held his breath in and did as he was asked.

“I...” Eliott started. “This is important. I cannot tell you why...” He paused and sighed deeply, furrowing his brows. “This is highly frustrating.”

Lucas shook his head. “No, don’t be too hard on yourself, you’re doing your best. Maybe we can take a little break and let you sit on that one for a bit?” he suggested with a smile.

Eliott hesitated. “No, Lucas. This is... I used to feel this way all the time.” He looked away in contemplation and added, “I simply cannot put my finger on why that is. The answer is right before me, I can practically see it... I felt like this countless of times.”

Lucas frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I felt like... I was drowning,” Eliott admitted.

Lucas’ palms started to sweat, an uneasy twist in his stomach. He rubbed his palms on his shorts and asked in a careful tone, “Did you never learn how to swim?”

“No, I did not, but... this was not... It was....” Eliott stammered, a pinched look crossing his face. “It was a feeling deep in my bones, not the literal act of drowning. I-,” He paused and glanced at Lucas with caution. “I was suffocating.”

Lucas shuddered. Eliott’s distress was painfully clear on his face and Lucas felt at loss for words, unsure on how to comfort him. He lifted his hand with the intent of pressing it comfortingly on Eliott’s shoulder and he bit his lip when he remembered Eliott wouldn’t be able to feel any of it.

Eliott’s mouth tightened. “I cannot explain it,” he mumbled apologetically.

Lucas nodded and with a gentle look, he pulled back his phone and put it on his lap, hiding the screen from Eliott’s sight. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “You might not remember it now but give it some time. You still reacted to it. This is great progress," he said with a warm grin.

Eliott tilted his head uncertainly. “Do you truly believe so?” he whispered and Lucas felt his heart clench.

“Of course,” he reassured, trying to sound confident although he felt a little shaken himself. “I just... I’m going to keep doing research. I think there might be some newspapers of your time on the National Library’s database. Do you know what year you died? Maybe the month too?”

Eliott hummed. “I believe it was in 1836. Perhaps 1837.” 

“Okay, that’s good. That’s great!” Lucas exclaimed, nodding his head as convincingly as he could, his words for Eliott as much as it was for him. He hesitated then added apologetically, “I need to join the guys, or they’ll start looking for me.”

Eliott nodded and Lucas gave him a smile as he got on his feet and he stepped to the door. When he was about to open it, Arthur’s earlier words came back to him and he glanced back at Eliott who was still sitting on the bed, his head hung low. He looked tired and defeated and Lucas frowned, not liking this sight in slightest.

“I never asked you but… Why do you make those sounds? You know, the knocks?” Lucas asked. “Basile was scared shitless after our first night here.”

Eliott raised his head to look at him and smiled, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “I live a very lonely existence,” he started, staring at Lucas with open eyes. “Most of the time, it is just myself and my own thoughts. I know this might sound odd, but…those noises are my way of connecting with the living. It is my way of reminding myself that I do exist in the same world. That in some ways, if people cannot see me, they can still react to me. It takes the loneliness away even if it is for a fleeting moment.” He paused. “I did not mean to scare your friend. I am truly sorry if I did.”

Lucas nodded, making up his mind quickly. “You should hang out with us,” he said confidently.

Eliott’s eyes widened before a bright smile slowly curled his lips.

Lucas felt warm at the sight. This lighter and youthful look was such a steep contrast from the sombre look Eliott usually wore. If these were the last few days Eliott had on this earth, Lucas wanted him as happy as possible at all time.

“Are you sure?” Eliott asked, his eyebrows lifting on his forehead.

Lucas nodded. “I’m going to tell the guys. I think it will do you some good to be around us and…” he trailed off before his mouth stretched into a smirk. “I guess you’re not _that_ bad of a company.”

Eliott’s eyes crinkled on the side. “I gladly accept your offer.”

“Cool.” Lucas approved with a nod. “I think I have a plan. If, uh, if you’re up for it, of course.”

Eliott got up and walked over to him. “Sure,” he murmured and Lucas winked at him, elation taking over his body.

“Well after you,” Lucas said in a playful tone, opening the door and inviting Eliott to get out of the room first with a wave of his hand, bowing ridiculously as Eliott exited the room.

He heard Eliott’s soft chuckle and Lucas couldn’t help his smile from becoming goofy.

He had a good feeling about this.

\---

Basile frowned looking at the card he had in his hand. He narrowed his eyes and glanced at Lucas suspiciously. “I don’t get it,” he declared flatly.

“He’s obviously cheating,” Yann said, looking at Lucas up and down. Arthur beside him was fighting an amused smile off his face, having noticed the little glances Lucas was shooting behind Basile’s head.

Lucas gave him a secretive smile, holding the bubbly laugh that wanted to burst out of him.

“He’s not, all the cards are different,” Basile said as he laid them all out in front of him. He scratched his head, puzzled, and turned them all around, trying to figure out if the back of the cards had been altered but nothing was highly noticeable.

Lucas shrugged with a playful smile. “I’m telling you Baz! I can read your mind,” he insisted.

Basile narrowed his eyes. “But that’s impossible.”

Lucas bit his lip, considering his options. “Well if you don’t trust me, take these in another room and I’ll tell you which card you have in your hand,” he suggested.

Basile pondered his words for an instant and nodded. “Yeah okay, let’s do this. I’m sure you put a mirror somewhere and I just can’t see it.” He got up, grabbing the cards in his hands and he headed towards the kitchen.

Yann nodded and turned his head to look at Arthur. “Can you go with him and make sure he won’t cheat? I’ll stay with this one and make sure _he_ won’t cheat. I don’t trust him right now,” he said, pointing at Lucas with his chin. Arthur chuckled and got on his feet, going after Basile. He whirled his head around quickly to wink at Lucas.

Lucas made his most innocent face and glanced at Eliott who seemed to greatly enjoy the moment of confusion that was happening because of him and he held back a smile. With a discreet tilt of his head, Lucas invited Eliott to follow his friends.

Yann cleared his throat. “Don’t think I believe your innocent act. You’re up to something,” he stated, a warning in his voice. “And give me your phone, I don’t trust Arthur either, for all I know, he’s your accomplice,” he said, lifting his palm up and wiggling his fingers.

Lucas smirked, an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Me? Never. I’m an honourable man, I’m just _that_ good, what can I say?” He uncurled his legs from under him and put his feet on the coffee table. He grabbed his phone and handed it to Yann. “But here, whatever, Arthur’s got nothing to do with it.”

Yann narrowed his eyes and took the phone, inspecting it suspiciously before he slipped it in his pocket. “That’s for me to decide.” He muttered, a small smile stretching his lips.

Lucas rolled his eyes before Yann spoke again. “Come on now, tell me how you do it,” he whispered, nudging Lucas’ foot with his hand.

“Magicians never reveal their secrets,” Lucas shot back with a mysterious smile.

He heard Eliott’s voice and perked up discreetly, listening to what he was saying. _“Your friend is drawing a blonde lady with big, hum, oh Lord have mercy, I cannot say that.”_

Lucas tried to repress his laughter, biting on the insides of his cheeks, but Eliott’s clear discomfort got to him. He threw his head back and burst out laughing, incapable of holding it in anymore.

Yann snorted, believing Lucas was making fun of him. “I’ll figure it out you know.”

_“Your friend is not very, uh, gifted. Her proportions are very off. I do not think her… chest area … should be this predominant,”_ Eliott added, his voice perplexed, and Lucas would’ve given his first born just to see the look on Eliott’s face.

Lucas lost himself in another fit of laughter and he wiped the small tears that were falling from the corners of his eyes.

When he calmed himself down, his cheeks feeling a little sore and warm, he stuttered to Yann, “Yeah, I doubt it.”

“Okay Lucas. Which card?” came Basile’s voice from the kitchen and Lucas pushed his back against the couch, crossing his arms behind his head. He pretended to think, putting on a show for his friend who was observing him closely.

Lucas hummed and murmured in a falsely mystical voice, “Yes, I see…. Mmmm, yes. It’s very clear now.” In a louder voice, he exclaimed, “You drew Daphné, you liar.”

“Fuck!” Basile cried out from the kitchen, Arthur’s laugh ringing shortly after and Basile came back in the living room with an awed face, followed by Arthur and Eliott. Eliott looked pleased with himself, although he kept shooting weary looks Basile’s way. They smiled subtly at each other and Eliott moved to the couch to sit beside Lucas.

“Man, you really can read my mind,” Basile said, dropping the cards and a notepad he probably had found in the kitchen and Lucas chuckled when he noticed the terrible drawing of Daphné Basile had done. “Can you read Yann’s too?”

Lucas shrugged casually. “Of course, if I want to, I can.”

Yann raised a challenging eyebrow. “Do it then, what am I thinking?”

“Meh, I don’t really _want_ to,” Lucas retorted.

Yann wrinkled his nose. “Coward,” he muttered.

“Do you really want me to share what you thought about last night?” Lucas shot back, knowing perfectly well he had no idea what that could possibly be, but his little threat seemed to work because Yann looked away, a small blush covering his cheeks.

Lucas’ smile widened victoriously.

Yann shook his head. “Whatever, how did you do this? Basile wasn’t even in the same room.”

Lucas tilted his head, wondering if he had done enough to make them believe him without too much protest. “You really want to know?”

Basile nodded eagerly and Lucas glanced at Eliott, his eyes questioning.

“Do you want me to do the same thing as last time?” Eliott said beside him and Lucas lifted his shoulders in a discreet shrug in response. 

He cleared his throat and looked at Basile. “Okay, I know it’s going to sound insane but….” He straightened up and crossed his legs. “Guys, I want you to meet someone,” he said in a wavering voice.

Basile and Yann both frowned and Lucas noticed Eliott’s shoulders tense in anticipation.

Lucas pointed at his friends with a tilt of his head. “Eliott? Care to do the honour?”

Eliott nodded then lifted his hand to the wall and knocked twice. 

Basile jumped out of his chair in a second, his face white.

“Did you hear that? You all heard that, right?” he exclaimed, staring at the wall in front of him, his eyes wild.

Lucas nodded. “Yes, that’s Eliott. I can’t read minds Baz, Eliott’s the one who’s been telling me everything. Remember Arthur’s story? Well it’s real.”

Basile’ hand curled into a fist and he threw Arthur a glare. “I knew something wasn’t right with that house! I knew it.” He started pacing the room, glancing at the wall wearily.

Arthur lifted his hands up. “In my defence, I’ve always thought it was a bunch of crap. I didn’t believe Lucas at all when he told me the other day,” he admitted.

“What? You knew?” Basile said, pointing at Arthur accusingly. “And you guys didn’t say anything for _days_?”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Baz, I’m telling you now. And I didn’t know what to do, okay? I was freaking out and I didn’t want you guys to think I was crazy!”

Basile grumbled but nodded. He halted his steps and looked at Lucas. “But how … what… HOW?” he exclaimed, pointing at the wall. “Can you see him?”

Lucas palmed the back of his neck, smiling awkwardly. “I… uh… I know it’s weird but yeah I can.”

Basile’s eyebrows rose on his forehead. “What the fuck? You do have superpowers!”

“Uh…” Lucas trailed off, thinking carefully about Basile’s words. “Sure. Not really, but sure, whatever you say.”

Yann, who had been silent this whole time, was observing Lucas attentively. His gaze was sharp, and Lucas wiggled on his seat under the scrutiny. Basile hadn’t been hard to convince at all considering he had been Eliott’s first victim, but Yann’s silence was making Lucas weary.

“Yann?” he whispered hesitantly.

Yann sighed. “I’m trying to believe you but it’s a bit hard to wrap my head around this,” he admitted. “Is that why you’ve been acting so weird lately? I couldn’t figure out what was going on.”

Lucas bit his lip. “Yann, I promise I’m not lying. Why would I lie about this?” he said with pleading eyes. “But yes, I’ve been trying to give Eliott his memory back, he… I guess I should start from the beginning. Short story is, Eliott’s been dead for a long time, he has…” He paused and glanced at Eliott before making a face. “… Basically, no memories of how he died and who he was before and because, for some reason, I’m the _only_ person he ever managed to talk to since he died, he needs my help to leave for good.”

Yann nodded slowly. “I see.” He frowned and glanced at Basile. “But why are you telling us?”

Lucas looked out the window then took a deep breath. “I want Eliott to be around us,” he started, glancing back at Yann and Basile. “The more we interact with him, the more chances we have of triggering his memory.” He paused. “And honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing. We’ve made some … progress, but it’s not enough and we don’t have a lot of time before we leave…” he added with a shrug. “We need all the help we can get at this point.”

Yann tilted his head to the side and observed Lucas quietly. “Okay,” he finally said.

Lucas’ eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

Yann nodded and a small smile stretched his lips.

Lucas’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Thank you,” he murmured in a soft voice.

“So… you want our help to kill a ghost? What the hell?” Basile blurted out, squinting his eyes thoughtfully.

Lucas’ head fell back as he sighed deeply. “I mean… I know it sounds bad when you put it like that and trust me if I could I’d find another solution, but that’s what Eliott wants,” he muttered.

“What about an exorcist then? That could work,” Basile mused out loud.

Lucas snapped his head up and crossed his arms in front of his chest, shooting him a glare. “Forget about that, we’re _not_ calling an exorcist,” he gritted out.

There was no way in hell that Lucas would let some weirdo he didn’t trust help him with Eliott. Who knew what they’d do to him? Eliott had put his faith in him and Lucas wasn’t about to let him down.

“But-” Basile started with a frown.

Lucas threw him a warning look, interrupting his friend. “No,” he said firmly.

Basile lifted his hands in the air. “Okay, okay, fine! No exorcist. Got it.” He paused and looked around. “Where is he now?”

Lucas pointed at Eliott with his thumb. “Right there,” he said with a small smile.

Basile nodded. “Uh, hi Eliott, it’s hum… a pleasure to meet you,” he stuttered, waving his hand awkwardly.

“Likewise,” Eliott replied with a smile and Lucas gave Basile two thumbs up to let him know Eliott had answered positively.

Yann wiggled on his seat. “So… What do you want us to do?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

Lucas sucked on his lower lip. In all honesty, he didn’t know what to tell them. He glanced around for a moment before his eyes fell on the terrible drawing Basile had done of Daphné. His eyes widened and he stood up to grab the notepad and the pen.

He sat back down and cleared his throat, pushing the tip of the pen on the notepad. “Okay so…” he started glancing at Eliott. “The goal here is to make Eliott remember how he died… He doesn’t remember _shit_ from his old life, so if we can find anything related to him in this house, it would be great. Arthur found an old painting of him here so we might find other stuff like a book, jewels, whatever it is.” He paused and glanced at Basile. “Can you do that? The older it looks the better.”

Basile scratched his head hesitantly then shrugged. “Yeah, okay, I’ll do it.”

Yann lifted his hand. “Maybe we can find old songs? Music does wonder to people with Alzheimer apparently,” he suggested.

“Yes!” Lucas exclaimed, writing it down. “Great idea.” He looked at Arthur. “Can you call other people in your family? Maybe they know something that your grandma doesn’t.”

Arthur approved with a nod. “Alright. I’m not sure they are all at home, but I’ll try.” He paused. “What do I tell them?” he questioned uncertainly.

“I don’t know,” Lucas replied with a shrug. “Improvise? Tell them you want to do your family tree or something.”

Lucas bit his lip and turned his head to look at Eliott. “You said 1836 or 1837, right?”

“I believe so, give or take a year or two,” Eliott murmured with a frown.

Lucas hummed, lowering his eyes to his notepad. “Okay, so let’s just write down 1835 to 1840,” he murmured. “Local newspapers usually have a section where they announce the death of people, so maybe we can find some in databases. I was thinking of looking into that tonight.” Lucas glanced at Yann. “Can you help me? I just have my phone and the 4G is shit around here.”

Yann nodded with a serious look.

Lucas tossed the notepad on the coffee table and gazed at Eliott. “If you remember anything, even if it’s a small detail, please tell me okay? It’s worth a shot at this point.”

Eliott gave him a smile and nodded. “I knew I chose wisely when I asked for your help. I am impressed.”

Lucas snorted. “Yeah, well I’m the smartest one around here,” he said winking at Arthur who shook his head amusedly. 

Lucas got on his feet and rubbed his hands together. “Alright dudes, we’ve got a ghost to free. Let’s get to work.”


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm legit posting this with trembling hands. 
> 
> I can't believe this story is over. 
> 
> I've been working on this for so long and I'm so very proud of how far I've come with this story. It is really special to me and I can't wait for you to discover the end of this "OS". 
> 
> Please, let me know what you thought, good or bad ^^
> 
> Thank you so much to all of you who left me a comment or a kudos, you have no idea how happy it made me 💕💕

Lucas was pacing his room slowly. He stopped by the bed, his eyes wandering across the messy covers.

“Yes, I think I did okay? But I don’t really want to think about it. I’m not even sure when we’re supposed to have the results,” Lucas said, talking on the phone with his mom.

_“Oh, my darling, I know you did well, and you’ll make a wonderful doctor,” _his mom replied, her voice comforting and warm.

Lucas sighed, “Psychologist, mom.”

Why did he always have to repeat everything he told her?

He could hear the smile in her voice when she answered,_ “If you say so, darling. When are you coming home again, you didn’t forget about our trip, did you?”_

Lucas moved to the closet, dragging his hand along the wooden surface. “We leave on Saturday morning. Yann has a family reunion on Sunday. And of course, I didn’t forget, mom. I can’t wait.” He lifted his hand and wrinkled his nose when he noticed his fingertips were covered in dust. He shook his hand and wiped it on his short distractedly.

His mother laughed, _“Good, I can’t wait either. I’ve missed you these past few months, but I get it, you’re busy. I’m so proud of you.”_

Lucas’ smiled, a fuzzy feeling wrapping around his heart. Not having his parents around and having a particularly tense relationship with them for the better part of his teenage years hadn’t been easy. A part of him craved his mother’s affection and hearing her gush over him made him feel like a kid again.

He cleared his throat. “About that… What did the doctor say about you leaving for two weeks?” he asked.

His mother hummed then replied, _“She was very encouraging, but I need to see her before I leave.” _She paused and added,_ “Could you come with me? She wanted to give you some emergency numbers, just in case.”_

Lucas nodded reflexively, forgetting his mom couldn’t see him. “Uh…” he trailed off, realising his mistake, “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Lucas felt more than he saw Eliott’s presence in his room and he glanced around, noticing him by the door. He shot him a tight smile and raised a finger, informing him this wouldn’t take long.

He turned his attention back to his mother. “Mom, I have to go, I’ll call you when I’m back in Paris, okay?”

_“Alright, my darling, take care,” _his mom said tenderly._ “Oh! And give a big hug to Yann for me, please.” _

“Will do. Bye mom.” Lucas ended the call and flopped down on his bed with a sigh. He glanced up and gave Eliott a small smile.

“Hey,” he whispered awkwardly.

Eliott cleared his throat. “Was that your Mother?” he asked.

Lucas nodded. “Yes, she wanted to check up on me.”

Eliott hummed and Lucas could tell he wanted to ask him something.

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” he drawled.

Eliott licked his lips. “I do not mean to pry, but is she ill? I have heard you mention a doctor?” he asked.

“Ah, you caught that part,” Lucas said as he rubbed the back of his neck with his palm. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He lowered his eyes to his phone and threw it on his pillow. “My… um… My mom is mentally ill,” he explained.

It had taken a few years for her to get the proper diagnosis and medication and she was doing much better than she had in a long time. But thinking about how long it took for her to reach that point and for them to reconnect and rebuild their relationship always made him feel vulnerable. He still carried a lot of shame about the time he had, to put it frankly, given up on her and despite them having a healthier mother and son relationship now, the guilt was still weighting him down.

Eliott seemed to pick up on Lucas’ discomfort. “We do not have to talk about it,” he murmured gently.

Lucas shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I think it would do me some good, actually.”

He took a deep breath. For some reason, he trusted Eliott to handle what he was about to tell him with care. Maybe it was the summertime. Maybe it was because Eliott craved a human connection. Maybe Lucas was ready to talk about it too.

And it wasn’t like Eliott was going to tell anyone.

“It’s just that it’s not easy for me to talk about this,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “I don’t really talk about it actually, even to the guys.” Lucas chuckled nervously. “I don’t really know where to start.”

Eliott nodded and came to sit beside him. “Wherever you feel comfortable?” he suggested.

Lucas took a deep breath, lowering his eyes to his hands. “Ok… I… My mom wasn’t always like this. It was only by the time I hit 13 that she started acting out,” he started quietly. “But it was okay at first, we managed to work it out because my dad and I were there to help her, you know, we stuck together because that’s what a family does.”

“Just before I turned 16, my dad fell in love with one of his clients, or whatever the fuck that was. And I don’t know, I guess he decided that my mom was too much.” Lucas frowned, the memory still leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“One day, I came back home after class and my dad was gone. I haven’t seen him since. He tex-, writes me sometimes when he wants something, but we don’t have much of a relationship anymore,” Lucas shrugged, mentally pushing that thought away. Lucas resented his dad so much for what he had done.

He licked his lips and said, “I tried to stay, to help her as much as I could, but I think my mom kind of snapped after my dad’s departure and one night, she barged in my room screaming about how evil spirits were out to get me and that I had to run.”

Lucas glanced up at Eliott who was listening to him attentively, his eyes kind and supportive.

Lucas cleared his throat. “I remember seeing the look on her face and realising I didn’t recognize her. I… I freaked out.” He paused and exhaled loudly, the memory of it still very raw. “So, I did just as she told me, and I ran. I ended up in a bar, I got really drunk and that’s when I met my flatmate, Mika. I refused to go home, and I don’t know what made him offer that, but he took me in and let me stay in his apartment, and one thing led to another, I ended up moving in with him and ... I’ve lived with him ever since.”

“What happened to your Mother?” Eliott asked in a whisper. The mood was sombre, but it felt nice, opening up like this, especially to someone who was so willing to listen.

“My dad put her in a clinic where she could be taken care of professionally,” Lucas replied, his voice muted. “I still feel pretty shitty about it. I gave up on her and to be honest, for a while I thought I was better off without her. Better off without mentally ill people in my life. I was still answering her messages, but it just wasn’t the same.”

“So… You do not see her anymore?” Eliott asked.

Lucas shook his head. “We didn’t see each other for a while,” he admitted, mouth tight. “But things are much better between us, now. She lives alone and I visit her when I can. We’re even going to Italy together in a few weeks.”

Eliott nodded and with a curious look he inquired, “What made you change your mind?”

Lucas’ breath hitched in his throat. Eliott didn’t know he was gay, and he wasn’t sure he wanted the way Eliott usually looked at him to change. He looked away pensively. “There was this girl from my school. We dated for like a minute and she snooped on my phone … And found out that I was gay. Then she told everybody.”

Eliott frowned, a confused expression slowly taking over his face and Lucas’ stomach dropped. “Being gay is a great thing. Why was it so bad?” Eliott inquired.

The corner of Lucas’ mouth twitched in amusement and he shook his head. “Not gay as in joyful. Gay as in … homosexual.”

“Oh,” Eliott mumbled and he cleared his throat. “You prefer men.”

Lucas nodded, feeling a bit on the fence. “I know it wasn’t very … uh, well liked in your time.”

Eliott shrugged. “Times change, doesn’t it?”

Lucas let out a sigh of relief. Eliott had been surprised but in no way was he being judgemental or disapproving and Lucas felt a smile curl his lips.

“I guess so. We still have a long way to go though.” He paused. Going back to that time was always painful and honestly quite traumatic, he usually avoided dwelling on it too much. “After that, I sorta hit rock bottom. I was avoiding everybody, I barely slept, and I was feeling so… paranoid all the time. I don’t remember a day where I wasn’t exhausted,” Lucas explained.

He bowed his head. “Then, I don’t know, one day Mika and Yann decided that enough was enough and they teamed up to knock some sense into me. Then I talked to my other friends, and then I came out to my mom... And she was so supportive of me that I realised that yeah, maybe sometimes I couldn’t reach her and bring her back to reality, but she was still my mom, you know?”

Lucas continued, “She was still the one who held me when I felt like crying, she was still the one who took her time off work to take me to piano lessons. She was still the one showing me crappy black and white movies that I didn’t give a shit about….”

“I feel very ashamed about it still. She was so supportive, and I wasn’t of her. I know I was young, but I regret shutting her out, I did what my dad did to her, to us, and I refuse to be like him,” he admitted and let his eyes wander across the room, stopping at a duck’s painting. A hint of a smile played on his lips before he shook his head.

Lucas rubbed his hand on his face. “So, all this to say… It got me into thinking about how I treated her. People are who they are, you know? And sometimes they are unwell, and you need to be patient with them,” Lucas mumbled, shrugging a little. “You know, I wished for a long time that I wasn’t gay, sometimes I still do because my life could be easier, but would I still be me?” he sighed, pulling his legs up and encircling them with his arms.

Lucas dropped his chin on his knees and stared straight ahead. “I think… coming to terms with that part of myself made me realise that it’s just that. A part of myself. Just like being good at maths, loving the colour grey or apparently being able to see dead people,” Lucas whispered, smiling at his lame joke.

He saw Eliott’s fond smile from the corner of his eyes and he continued, feeling a little lighter. “You know, in my time, maybe in yours too, people love to put other people in a box, add a label and basically refuse to see that this is not the only thing people are. I’m gay, yes, but I’m not just that. Being gay is only a part of what makes me, me, and if I shut people out just because they have a mental illness, what does this say about me? It’s just as bad as people doing this to me because I’m gay. People are more than one thing.”

“My mom is not her illness, she’s much more than that. And I’m tired of seeing things through one angle,” Lucas mused, feeling his cheeks heat up at the admission.

There was a pause after that, and Lucas closed his eyes, tiredness taking hold of him. He’d heard plenty of times that talking honestly about how one felt could be draining, but he didn’t think it could be this much. His eyes were prickling behind his eyelids and he rubbed them with his hand.

When he glanced up, Eliott was looking away with a frown.

Lucas lifted his hand to shake Eliott’s shoulder but stopped quickly when he remembered he couldn’t touch him. He cleared his throat and asked, “Eliott, are you okay?”

“Of course,” Eliott replied with a wave of his hand but the tone of his voice made Lucas raise a curious eyebrow.

Eliott got up and then crouched down in front of Lucas, looking up with kind eyes. “I thank you for sharing your story with me, Lucas. I am truly honoured.”

Lucas nodded, a small smile on his lips. “I’m glad I did.”

And he really meant it.

\---

This had to be a joke, Lucas thought as he stared at Basile who was bobbing his head to the beat of the music, his wild curls bouncing. He glanced at Eliott who was watching Basile with an intrigued face and shook his head.

“You can’t be serious,” Lucas said in a flat tone.

Basile stopped moving, momentarily confused. “What do you mean? Those are classics and they’re old. That’s exactly what you asked for.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “_Again_, you can’t be serious,” he stated and pointed at Eliott although he knew full well Basile couldn’t see him. “He died in the 1830s. Not the 1960s. He didn’t listen to _The_-freaking-_Beatles_ when he was alive!” he gritted out.

“I do love this quartet. They have quite a unique sound,” Eliott pipped up beside him and judging by the look on his face, he was serious.

Lucas shot him a glare. “Hush you. You’re not helping right now,” he whispered, irritated.

“Oh. I didn’t think about that,” Basile said with a frown. He grabbed his phone and stopped the music with a touch of his thumb. “What should I look for then?”

Lucas pinched the bridge of his noise. “I don’t know…” He glanced at Eliott. “Mozart? Bach? Lully? Who the fuck ever? Find composers Eliott might have heard of before his death.”

“But those are boring,” Basile whined.

Lucas let out a drawn-out sigh. “Who cares if they’re boring? And why are you in charge of the music? I thought you were looking for objects and stuff,” he cried out, lifting his hands in the air.

Although, if Basile’s idea of old music was The Beatles, who knew what objects he would have found. A vinyl-player? An old phone?

Basile palmed the back of his neck. “I _may_ have broken a lamp or two,” he muttered, a sheepish look on his face.

“So, he’s not allowed to touch anything anymore,” came Arthur’s voice from the doorway.

Lucas looked up, an amused smile stretching his lips. Why wasn’t he surprised?

“But anyways…,” Arthur said as he stepped to Lucas and tossed a piece of paper on the table.

Lucas frowned. “What’s that?” he mumbled, grabbing the paper. Lucas’ eyebrows rose on his forehead and he felt Eliott move beside him, his cheek close to his as he took a look. “Death certificate of Hector Broussard, 1896-1940?”

Arthur nodded. “Yep.”

Lucas wrinkled his noise. “Okay? And you’re showing me this because…?” Lucas trailed off questioningly.

Arthur shrugged casually. “Because we’re wasting time looking through all the newspapers from the 1830s when we could’ve done this right away. I mean, sure, I didn’t know it was a thing, but I found this yesterday when I was going through grandma’s stuff…,” he said, pointing at the paper Lucas was holding. “… And apparently death certificates have been a thing since like 1790. And do you know who was born after 1790? Eliott. That’s right.”

“So… Do you have his certificate?” Lucas asked, a hint of excitement in his voice. He turned his head to the side and smiled at Eliott.

“Well yes but it didn’t reveal much, mainly the date. Old death certificates are a bit hard to find, but some departments have them digitalized and lucky for us…,” Arthur stopped talking as if he wanted to add some unnecessary suspense. “They had Eliott’s! And Eliott’s death was on June 28th, 1836. Or so they estimated. He had just turned 21.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘estimated’?”

Arthur bit his lip then shook his head. “I don’t really know,” he said uncertainly. “But my great-grand father doesn’t have the estimated thing on here, so my best guess is that they didn’t find Eliott’s body right away.”

“Fuck,” Lucas whispered, furrowing his brows. “I don’t get it. Didn’t you say he died in this house?” He looked at Eliott. “Did you die in this house?” he repeated.

Eliott lifted his shoulders in a shrug and Lucas looked back at Arthur.

Arthur hummed, “I mean I said that hypothetically. How should I know? I wasn’t there.” He observed Lucas attentively. “Does it matter?”

Lucas hesitated. “Well if he died in this house, why would it take some time for his body to be discovered? It doesn’t make sense.” He ran a hand through his hair then brought to this mouth. “Did you find anything else?”

“No,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “I’m still searching.”

Lucas bit his lip wonderingly then shrugged. “Guess I’ll do the same. I know you think it’s useless, but I feel like those newspapers can give us something. It’s worth a try.”

At least he hoped so.

\---

Fuck Agatha Christie.

No really, fuck her.

Lucas groaned from his spot on the floor as he pushed the many Agatha Christie books away from him. He got up and stepped to the closest bookshelf with a determined look.

Lucas didn’t know what was happening to him. Their departure from the house was fast approaching and that realisation was leaving him with a sense of urgency knowing he was far from discovering what had happened to Eliott. 

And he hated it.

Lucas loved to say he thrived when the pressure was on, but right in this moment, Lucas was anything but thriving. Ever since he had talked to Eliott about his mom, Lucas had felt something change between them. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly, but he knew he had grown closer to him as if Eliott had become somewhat of a friend and not just a bother he was helping.

The only problem was that this realisation had brought a lot of conflicting emotions to the surface. He’d grown attached to Eliott somehow and completing their mission would only lead to Lucas losing someone he cared about no matter how little he knew about him. At the same time, Eliott didn’t belong here and had expressed his desire to leave many times.

And who was Lucas to decide if Eliott could live or die?

Lucas sighed and caressed the books in front of him with a distanced look. He pulled a few books from the bookshelf, pilling them up on his arm and turned around, dropping them by his previous spot on the floor.

Lucas didn’t really know what he was trying to accomplish. Arthur had been adamant about how very little remained from Eliott’s time in the house and yet, Lucas couldn’t simply do stay put and do nothing.

After Arthur’s discovery, Lucas had searched through countless databases and websites to no avail and frustration seemed to be pouring out of every fibre of his being.

“Lucas?” he suddenly heard from the living room. “Where you at?”

Lucas looked up, clearing his throat. “In here,” he cried out.

A few seconds later, Yann’s face appeared by the doorway. He stepped inside the room and leaned on the wall.

“I’m sorry, Lulu. I couldn’t find shit,” he said in an apologetic voice.

Lucas let out a drawn-out sigh. “Me neither. But I’m not really surprised to be honest, it’s been so long now…”

Yann pointed at the many books laying around with his chin. “What are you doing?

Lucas shrugged. “I’m trying to find something useful,” he mumbled under his breath.

Yann nodded as he stepped to Lucas. “So… What you got here?”

Lucas bit his lip and gazed at the book covers. “A bunch of Agatha Christie…” he grunted and pushed the books. He brought his hands to his face. “Fuck!” he gritted out frustratingly.

Seriously.

Fuck her.

Yann sat beside him. He put his hand on Lucas’ back and rubbed it comfortingly. “Hey, don’t be all defeated, we still have some time. We only leave in…,” Yann trailed off. He wiggled on his ass and slipped his hand in his pocket, grabbing his phone and bringing it to his face. “2 days,” he winced. “Okay, so maybe not that much time. But we still can do it.”

“I’m this close…” Lucas said, lifting his hand up, his thumb and index only a few centimetres apart. “… To calling the Ghostbusters. But like, Ghostbusters that would do consulting, not suck his soul into a crappy hoover.”

Yann frowned. “Do people really do that?” he asked in awe.

Lucas snorted and sat up. “Yeah, you wouldn’t believe how many people think ghosts really do exist.”

“Lucas?” he heard Eliott say.

Lucas snapped his head up and narrowed his eyes. He quickly noticed him by the doorway and waved. “Hey, what’s up?”

Yann froze and glanced around, an understanding glint slowly lighting his dark eyes as he realised none of their other friends were there. “Eliott?” he whispered in his ear and Lucas nodded.

“I am truly sorry for interrupting your conversation,” Eliott murmured, glancing at Yann. “But could I have a word?”

Lucas furrowed his brows. “Hum. Sure?” He looked at Yann and smiled apologetically. “Can you leave? He wants to talk.”

Yann nodded and got on his feet. He waved awkwardly, probably trying to greet Eliott then he stepped out of the room without a backward glance. 

Lucas sucked on his lip and looked up, quickly noticing the look of hesitance on Eliott’s face. “What’s up?” he asked.

Eliott seemed to ponder his words for a moment, his eyes jumping from one spot to another, never settling somewhere long. His body language screamed his nervousness and Lucas couldn’t quite understand what this was all about.

He frowned and tilted his head to the side, “Are you okay?”

Eliott nodded. “Do you remember what you told me yesterday? About your Mother?” he asked seriously.

Lucas sucked on his lower lip, a curious glint in his eyes. “Yes…?” he trailed off. “What about it?”

Eliott took a deep breath. “Our conversation… I could not stop thinking about it. Since you have arrived…” He cleared his throat and locked eyes with Lucas. “I never told you that… but I have been remembering glimpses of isolated moments of my teenaged years. For a few days, I was unable to connect them to one another,” he admitted. “But yesterday… There was something that you said that kept nagging my brain, pleading me to remember.”

Eliott paused and looked out the window, his face strangely soft as if images of his life were rushing before his eyes. He shook his head and exhaled deeply, glancing back at Lucas. “And then I did.”

Lucas’ eyes widened and he sat up straighter, staring at Eliott with an awed look. He was about to talk when Eliott shook his head slightly. “I was an alienated, or to be more precise, _about_ to be an alienated,” he promptly said.

Alienated? Where had he heard of that word before?

Lucas frowned. “Alienated?” he repeated.

“Unhinged. Demented. Mad. Not right in the head,” Eliott clarified with a carefully neutral face and Lucas felt his stomach drop. “In my time, people like me… And your Mother, were hidden or imprisoned because society decided we were dangerous. We were alienated from the rest of the world.” 

Lucas nodded, finally remembering where he had heard of that word before. From what he had gathered from one of his psychology classes, the history of mental illnesses wasn’t a pretty one and even to this day, it was still severely misunderstood. Lucas was a living proof of that. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must’ve been for Eliott in the 19th century.

When Eliott said nothing afterwards, the silence stretching too long for comfort, Lucas said, “Can you tell me what else you remember?”

“I remember how I felt,” Eliott acknowledged. He tilted his head to the side seemingly hesitant to talk about it before he continued, “There would be days when I could only sleep, stuck in a deep melancholy, as if the will to enjoy life had left my body. I had no purpose, no desires. The void inside of me, the emptiness I felt was … all consuming.”

He looked away briefly. “Other days, I felt the complete opposite. I barely slept. My mind was racing with grand ideas. I was an unstoppable force: Painting until my brain could not come up with anything, picking fights with other villagers… I was constantly stuck in a circle of those moments. I thought I was going completely mad.”

He paused and Lucas noticed the haunted look in his blue eyes. “I was terrified of myself,” Eliott murmured.

Lucas’ heart tightened. Images of his mom’s face were flashing before his eyes and for a moment, he thought he was going to be sick. Was that how his own mother felt at times too? He lowered his eyes an uneasy twist in his stomach.

When he looked up, Eliott was staring at him with a pained smile. “When you talked about your Mother, or more specifically, about your relationship with her, it reminded me of my own Mother. I do not recall my childhood, not even a bit, but I do remember noticing the shift in Mother’s eyes,” he explained.

Eliott’s face grew grim. “She could not bear to look at me,” he whispered, a slight tremor in his voice. “I think she was ashamed of what was becoming of me. I am not certain about this but a part of me strongly believes she did not want people to know about my condition. I remember her refusing to let me leave the house. Most of the glimpses I have had are _all_ in this house. I cannot recall anything outside of it.”

Lucas closed his eyes, a cold anger burning in the pit of his stomach. The more Eliott spoke about his past, the more infuriated Lucas was becoming.

How could she do that to you? He felt like yelling but he contained himself. Somehow part of Eliott’s story reminded him so much of his own and Lucas knew that part of his fury was directed at himself. 

Eliott cleared his throat and Lucas looked up questioningly. “But most importantly, and this is why I wanted to have this conversation with you, I remembered something that could help us.” Eliott paused, looking for his words. “When Arthur mentioned my date of death, it triggered something inside of me. The day before I died, Mother told me she had received a letter from Father a few weeks prior, announcing he had talked with an alienist and that I was to be treated away from home.” Lucas’ breath hitched and he sat up, gazing at Eliott attentively. “The day I died was the day of my departure for the Asylum.”

Lucas’ mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. Asylum? Eliott was supposed to go to an Asylum?

His stomach churned and he bowed his head to hide the effect Eliott’s words had on him. “But you never went,” he guessed in a muted voice.

Eliott shook his head. “No. I died instead.”

“Eliott… I… I don’t know what to say,” Lucas admitted, running a hand through his hair. The more he learned about Eliott and the more he understood how dark his past had been. But he was far from expecting any of it. He cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s great that you remember,” he mumbled, unsure if he believed his own words.

Ignorance truly was bliss, wasn’t it?

“It is, isn’t it? The problem is that I still do not know what happened on that day,” Eliott explained but Lucas brushed it off with a wave of his hands.

They were so close to figuring out what had happened. Lucas got on his feet and moved to the bookshelf, grabbing a small notebook. He glanced around trying to find a pen and when he saw one, he took it and sat back down, scribbling down all Eliott had said, trying to map all of it as best as he could.

Lucas frowned and looked up, a curious glint in his blue eyes. “But wait, if you were like that before, do you still have those moments of ups and downs?” he asked.

Eliott shook his head. “No, I have always been stable, at least since my passing. My mood does not change much now. Remembering all this makes me realise how heretical I was behaving at the time.” Eliott glanced away pensively. “Maybe dying was the only way to heal me, to kill the madness in my brain.” He paused. “I used to wonder about this when I was alive. How liberating death would be.”

Lucas shuddered, Eliott’s words making him weary. Liberating and death didn’t sound good in Lucas’ brain and if Eliott had thought that it was during his lifetime… Lucas shook his head, the thought making his insides twist uneasily.

Eliott sighed, his mouth tight and dejected. “Liberating is not a word I would use now. It is quite ironic when you think about it. Death delivered me from my own brain but condemned me to an afterlife of solitude. Like the Devil’s kiss,” he mused.

Lucas let his mind wander for a moment. “The painting…,” he suddenly murmured; images of the man immersed in water dancing before his eyes. “That’s what you meant when you said you felt like you were drowning, didn’t you?”

Eliott bit his lip, a distant look in his eyes. “Perhaps. I wonder if I forgot all of this willingly,” he whispered.

Lucas’ heart clenched. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry you had to remember that,” he murmured truthfully.

Eliott shook his head, his eyes serious and calm. “I am not. These are not fond memories, but if getting them back means I can be free, I will do whatever needs to be done,” he stated firmly, looking straight into Lucas’ eyes, pleading him to believe him.

Lucas nodded. “You’re right. I don’t know where this is going to lead us, but now that you remember all of this, I’m sure we’re going to figure out what happened on that day.”

“This is what I am hoping for too,” Eliott murmured with a small smile.

Lucas glanced at the notebook he was holding in his hand and scribbled a quick note.

_Eliott’s mom: departure for Asylum -> Eliott dies -> No Asylum_

But what could’ve happened between those two events? Lucas had an inkling he wouldn’t like the answer, and for once he hoped his instincts were wrong.

_Mother?_

\---

“Do you think he got lost?” Arthur murmured with a frown, leaning on the kitchen counter.

Lucas lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug and glanced at Eliott who was standing in front of the bay window.

Lucas always wondered what Eliott thought about when he did this. Eliott seemed so lost in thoughts, so far away even though he was right in front of him.

Being in Eliott’s shoes seemed unfathomable to him. What did it feel like to be him? Could he remember the feel of the grass under his feet or the way the wind blew his hair away from his face during a heavy storm? Could his mouth still taste the many textures and flavours, fruits, meats and vegetables had?

Lucas closed his eyes in contemplation. Maybe Eliott was just disconnecting himself from the world around him. Sometimes it felt like it to Lucas, Eliott looking so closed off like this with his back facing Lucas and the expression on his face completely hidden from him.

A movement to his right caught his eyes and he glanced at Yann who was entering the kitchen, phone in hand.

“What’s going on? He’s coming back?” Arthur asked.

Yann shook his head and stepped further into the kitchen, moving to the coffee pot. “He didn’t answer,” he informed them, dropping his phone on the counter and picking up a mug. He poured the warm liquid in the mug before turning around and pushing his back against the fridge.

Yann looked pensive for a moment before he furrowed his brows. “I don’t get it. It’s not hard to find. I said walk straight ahead until you see the yellow house, then turn right and it’s right there. He can’t miss it and it’s a 5 min walk, not a trek in the mountains,” he sighed, exasperated.

Lucas snorted. Yann had a point, but it didn’t explain how Basile had managed to disappear for more than half an hour. It wasn’t as if the city was crowded and the entire population had decided to go buy some bread at 1 in the afternoon.

Just as he was about to open his mouth, the front door creaked open and everyone in the kitchen, including Eliott turned their heads to look at the newcomer. When Basile came into view, Yann exclaimed, “There you are! We were about to send a research party!”

Lucas raised an amused eyebrow, clearing his throat pointedly.

Yann shot him a glare. “Fine, we were not. We just wanted the bread,” he said flatly.

“Well I’m here, and I have some exciting news!” Basile said, unphased by their non-enthusiastic reactions.

Lucas frowned and stared at him flatly. “What is it?” he asked wearily. Basile’s exciting news were rarely exciting for other people and usually involved gross details that ended up traumatising Lucas and his other friends for life.

Basile kept his gaze on him for a moment before a mysterious smile stretched his lips. “Well, there was like… 3 people in front of me and I forgot my phone, so I had nothing to do except watch the other people or look around the bakery, you know? And dude, that old lady talked about her cats for ages,” he started, dropping the two fresh baguettes on the counter, Arthur stepping away to give him enough space to do so.

“Okay?” Lucas muttered, unsure where Basile’s story was heading at and he glanced at Eliott who was looking at Basile with a curious look on his face.

“And, this guy had a huge pimple on the back of his shoulder,” Basile continued, bringing both of his hands together to show off the size of that pimple and Lucas winced, closing his eyes. There we go again, he thought, disgusted. “And it was pretty gross, but this isn’t the interesting part.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “What is it then?” he huffed.

“Is Eliott here?” Basile asked and both Lucas and Eliott perked up, listening to him with renewed attention.

Lucas nodded, strands of hair falling before his eyes and he swept them away with a quick move of his hand. He pointed at Eliott who had stepped closer to the group of friends, and gave Basile an insistent look, inviting him to continue with his story. 

“Okay, so I saw this like, old article of a newspaper on the wall. It was from 1832 and it was announcing the opening of the bakery. That place is mad old! Then I remembered you said Eliott died in 183… 6, right?” Basile asked, looking at Arthur for confirmation and Arthur nodded.

Basile joined Yann by the fridge, opening a cupboard to grab a mug. “So, I asked the baker if she had other stuff from that time and she told me her family has severe hoarding tendencies,” he continued, filling his mug with coffee. “And apparently, one of her ancestors started collecting a bunch of newspapers back in the _17th century_ and they kept doing it afterwards, like a family tradition of some sort.” He paused and shot Lucas a toothy grin. “She showed me her dad’s collection. It’s all about the 1950s and 60s and the race to the Moon.”

“Wow,” Arthur muttered beside Lucas. “That’s cool AND disturbing at the same time.”

Lucas smirked and shot him a knowing look.

Basile nodded eagerly. “I know! I have my own collection about Marvel movies and comics on my hard-drive!” he exclaimed with a proud smile.

Lucas stared at him flatly and ignoring him he said, “Basile! That’s great! Can we see that collection?”

A pleased smile stretched Basile’s mouth. “My Marvel collection? I don’t have it on me but-,”

Lucas cut him off. “Baz, I’m sure it’s _amazing_…,” he retorted sarcastically. “But I was talking about the old newspapers.” Lucas explained with a serious look.

“Oh, that,” Basile mumbled as he lowered his eyes, disappointment in his voice. “I asked her, and she said it’s at her house and we can come over at 6 to have tea and biscuits. She seemed super happy to talk about it.”

“Eliott!” Lucas cried out, snapping his head to look at him. “Do you have a good feeling about it? _I_ have a good feeling about it.”

Eliott smiled but had a weary look in his eyes. “Mother made sure I was never out of the house. I am unsure whether she told the villagers about my death.”

Lucas bit on his lip, musing over Eliott’s words. “There’s still a chance,” he murmured, hoping to sound convincing.

Eliott tilted his head. “Perhaps,” he mused.

Lucas glanced at Basile. “Great, it’s settled then. Can we have breakfast now?”

Arthur nodded eagerly and grabbed the baguettes. He quickly stepped out of the kitchen moving towards the table in the living room, Yann and Basile following behind.

“Can you show me your Marvel collection?” Yann whispered to Basile and Lucas hid a smile behind his hand.

Basile seemed to perk up, his voice bright and excited when he replied, “Of course! We can do a marathon too!”

Lucas glanced at Eliott, a pleased smile stretching his lips.

Things were looking up.

\---

Estelle, the baker, opened the grey door and walked inside the room, pressing the light switch. “There you go, it’s right here.” She said, inviting Yann and Lucas in.

Lucas glanced around the room, noting the many wooden closets. “Thank you, Estelle,” he murmured.

Estelle waved her hand casually. “Of course, dear. I’m more than happy to help,” she said with a smile. She stepped to a closet and opened it, revealing stacked carboard boxes. “Men your age are generally obsessed with drinking and partying and … _video games_,” she continued in a judgemental tone. “It’s so refreshing to see young men interested in learning.”

Lucas and Yann glanced at one another, pinching their lips to avoid laughing at her statement.

If only she knew.

“Now let’s see…,” Estelle murmured, hunching over to look at the dates that were scribbled in black ink. She turned her head around, looking at Lucas. “What did you say again? The 1830s?”

Lucas nodded.

Estelle hummed thoughtfully and straightened up. “1800-1850. It should be in this one,” she mused, pointing at the box with her thumb. “Care to do the lifting, gentlemen? I would do it, but these boxes are quite heavy, and my back is a bit fragile.”

Yann and Lucas moved over to the closet and quickly pulled the boxes out one by one, shortly after sweating under the effort.

“I’m going to let you two get to work. I’ll go and entertain my other guests. I could swear Arthur grows a bit more whenever he comes back,” she told them with a fond smile. “Good luck, dears.”

She stepped out of the room and left the two friends alone.

Lucas cleared his throat and opened the cardboard box, stomach twisting nervously. He peered inside and whistled, “Wow, they have so many.”

Estelle had told them that her father, Maurice, had put in an incredible amount of work in trying to maintain and preserve the quality of the paper. He had worked as an art restorer for the better part of his life and had took it upon himself to do the same in his own home.

Lucas grabbed the first notebook and flipped the pages carefully. Every article had been taken out of the original newspaper and ordered chronologically, stuck on a page and protected by a transparent film, not unlike notebooks meant to protect dried leaves to keep them as untouched as possible.

Lucas could only commend Maurice for his hard work, truly impressed about what he was seeing. He went back to the first page to check the title.

_January-March 1801_.

Lucas bit his lip and grabbed the next notebook, dropping the first one beside the box.

_November 9th\- November 15th_, 1801, the title said.

Lucas hummed. 

This was going to take a while.

\---

Lucas sighed, his eyes red and watery from staring at old newspapers’ articles written in old French and in weird calligraphies. He brought a hand to his forehead and pushed sweaty hair away from his face. Lucas didn’t know if it was the pressure that was warming him up this way or if it was the natural heat of the room, but he was beginning to feel dizzy.

Yann and he had managed to narrow it down to three notebooks after half an hour of going through the box. The first one was dated _May-June 1836_, the second _July 5th\- July 23rd, 1836_ and the last one _August-October 1836_.

The lack of any article between June 30th and July 5th made Lucas a bit weary. Arthur had mentioned an estimated date of death on Eliott’s death certificate and Lucas feared that date had been decided on before the 5th.

Lucas bit his lip, loosing himself in his thoughts. His back and neck felt sore and he turned his head around, trying to appease his protesting muscles. He winced and brought a hand to his mouth, hiding a sudden yawn. 

He shook his head and glanced back at the second notebook, reading the date of that section, July 11th, 1836, his eyes then trailing down on what he assumed was a main title written in bold.

** _ “Louis Alibaud, attempted murderer of Louis Philippe, King of the French, to be executed in Paris.”_ **

Lucas shrugged, not that interested in the last few years of the last French Monarchy at that moment. He glanced at Yann and asked in a low voice, “You found anything?”

Yann barely looked his way. “There’s a bunch of stuff about Louis Philippe,” he murmured, flipping the pages. “But other than that, … No,” he admitted with a sorry smile. “No mention of Eliott… Nothing.”

Lucas closed his eyes and let out a drawn-out sigh.

He heard Yann shift beside him, grumbling lowly, “Oh wow, those two guys went to court for sodomy. That’s fucked up.”

“This shit still happens, you know. Not in France but like, in some other countries,” Lucas stated with a serious look.

Yann smiled sheepishly and picked up the last notebook. “Okay, last one,” he said, waving the notebook in front of him. He pointed at the one Lucas was holding. “Any luck with yours?” he asked.

Lucas shook his head. “Kinda like you, ‘The King blabla’ almost over and over. No wonder we did the Revolution if people kept reading about Kings. That’s the most boring type of gossip I’ve ever seen,” he quipped.

Yann snorted, nodding his head along.

Lucas sucked on his lower lip and glanced back at his notebook, hoping to find something useful. He flipped through another few articles, none of them helping Eliott’s case in any way before a title caught his eyes, dated July 15th, 1836.

** _“Théodore Romagniac, Mayor of Saint-Benoît, found dead.” _ **

Saint-Benoît?

Lucas frowned. Saint-Benoît was the city closest to where they were staying. He read the article, heart in his throat before a gasp escaped him.

Holy shit.

Lucas jumped on his feet making Yann flinch beside him.

“What the fuck, Lucas?” Yann exclaimed, bringing a hand to his heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Ya-… Yann,” Lucas stuttered, feeling lightheaded as spots of light danced before his eyes. He stopped moving, trying to find his balance.

He licked his lip, his mouth suddenly very dry. “I know what happened to Eliott,” he said in a shaky voice.

\---

“Eliott!” Lucas cried out as soon as they got back to the house, bursting through the front door with the notebook still held tightly in his hand. Arthur had promised Estelle that it would be returned without a scratch and after a few minutes of sweet talking, Lucas squirming excitedly behind Arthur, she had agreed.

“Eliott!” Lucas repeated in a louder voice.

He stepped into the living room, his insides in a jumble as he tried to even his breathing. His heart was beating madly against his ribcage, his blood pumping in his veins. He honestly felt drunk and for the first time in forever, it wasn’t because of any alcohol. 

Eliott’s face appeared in the corner of Lucas’ eyes and observed him curiously. “What is happening?” he asked.

“Eliott… We did it! We know how you died!” Lucas exclaimed, moving straight to him as he lifted the notebook, waving it before Eliott’s face.

Eliott’s eyes widened and he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. “What? How?” he stammered.

“Yes! It’s all in there,” Lucas said opening the notebook, flipping through the pages to find the article.

Arthur cleared his throat behind Lucas. “We’re going to leave... uh you two alone,” he mumbled. “How about a beer? This feels a little too weird,” he whispered to Basile and Yann, pointing at Lucas.

They both hummed in agreement and quickly turned on their heels, heading towards the kitchen. 

Lucas stayed completely oblivious to their departure. “Here,” he said, shoving the open notebook in Eliott’s face.

Eliott took a step back and frowned. “Which one I am supposed to read?”

Lucas narrowed his eyes. “I’ll do it.” He cleared his throat. “Théodore Romagniac, Mayor of Saint-Benoît found dead,” he read out loud. “Ring any bells?” he asked Eliott with the raise of an eyebrow.

Eliott shook his head.

Lucas shrugged. “_The search for Mayor Romagniac, who disappeared almost three weeks ago, is now over. His body was found on Thursday, July 13th by a fisherman in Lake Montant, a few days after the discovery of the body of a young man, recently identified as the son of Adeline and Gautier De Maury. Prefect Hillaire will name blabla… A Funeral Ceremony, blablabla_. The rest doesn’t matter,” he said, looking up at Eliott.

Lucas pointed at the article. “The son of the De Maurys, Eliott. This _has_ to be you. That article was dated July 15th, 1836, almost three weeks after the date on your death certificate,” he said with wide eyes.

Eliott stayed silent for a moment, musing Lucas’ revelation with a distant look.

“It doesn’t explain what happened,” he suddenly murmured in a soft voice.

“Fuck.” Lucas slipped a hand through his hair. “So… you still don’t remember?” he asked, his shoulders dropping defeatedly.

Eliott bowed his head. “I would not say I remember it clearly, no,” he admitted. “But I do have… Memories flashing before my eyes. I simply never connected them to one another before. Perhaps I thought I had imagined them.” He cleared his throat and continued slowly, “I remember the tender colours of an early morning sky. I remember a boat.” He paused. “I…” he stammered with a tight voice as if his emotions were overwhelming him. “I remember a voice saying my name, telling me to swim, to try and join the shore. I remember the cold. I was so cold.”

Eliott brought his hands to his face. “It all makes sense now,” he continued in a muffled voice. “The painting you showed me … It was not the internal feelings I often had that were coming back to me. I was reliving my death.” He shook his head and let his hands drop to his sides. “I never reached the shore. The head I tried so hard to keep afloat fell under the water. I drowned.”

Lucas realised how hard it was to breathe, Eliott’s words feeling like punches in the guts, each blow harder and more hurtful than the previous ones. He noticed the way Eliott’s body seem to lose all tightness, his arms dangling on the side, his head hunched over as if he wasn’t using any muscles to maintain his normal elegant posture.

He looked like puppet which had lost its strings. 

Eliott looked up, his face motionless. “I drowned,” he repeated in a dull voice.

Lucas felt his heart breaking in his chest. He was used to the overly polite Eliott. He was used to the more sombre Eliott. He was used to the Eliott who would smile hopefully, in complete faith that Lucas would help him.

But he wasn’t used to that broken version of him.

Lucas was completely at loss for words, powerless to bring him any comfort. He stepped closer and moved his hand above Eliott’s shoulder. It probably was a weird sight for people who couldn’t see Eliott, with Lucas’ hand floating randomly in front of him, and he glanced back, relieved when he noticed his friends weren’t there to see him.

He cleared his throat, feeling the muscles of his arm protesting his strange positioning. “Eliott…” he mumbled uncertainly. “You got your memory back. You can leave in peace.”

Why was he still there? Lucas wondered with furrowed brows.

Eliott remembered how he died. Lucas and his friends had done everything they could to make sure he did.

So why was he still there?

“Eliott… Please… Talk to me,” Lucas pleaded.

Eliott raised his chin, his gaze locking with Lucas’. “It is not working,” he mumbled in a small voice. “I know how I died but I do not feel any changes.”

Lucas swallowed with difficulty.

What had he done wrong?

Eliott remembered how he had died, but that had all been for nothing.

Lucas had failed.

\---

Lucas huffed, strands of hair falling messily on his forehead. His knees were pushing against his suitcase to flatten it as much as possible and with a small groan, he reached for the zipper. He sighed with relief when it slid smoothly, effectively closing the bag.

He pulled away, tilting his head to look around the room, trying to see if he had gathered everything one last time. He then got on his knees to check under the bed and noted with an approving nod that his packing task was now complete. 

He got on his feet and grabbed his suitcase before moving to the door. He stopped there for a moment and glanced back at the room, memories of his second night there coming back to him.

He felt his stomach clench, remembering his first meeting with Eliott and how, no matter how much he had tried to help him, Lucas had failed him.

Because there was no other way to explain how heavy his heart felt when thinking about Eliott. Eliott who had put so much hope and faith in him. Eliott who was so peaceful yet so lonely. Eliott who hadn’t shown up at all since their last conversation.

Lucas sucked on his lower lip. He knew he could come back another time, find another way to help him and finish what he had started, that not everything was lost, but the better part of him sincerely thought he should have done more for Eliott. 

And what if next time, he wasn’t going to be able to see him? What if this week had been Eliott’s only chance for freedom?

Lucas’ stomach dropped as his fingers curled tightly around the handle of his suitcase. He closed his eyes, fighting off the guilty tears that wanted to run down his cheeks. 

With a last longing look, he slowly moved out of the room, closing the door behind him. He took a few steps down the corridor, heading towards the staircase when he noticed that Arthur’s door was wide open. He stepped closer and peeked inside the room.

Arthur was sitting down at the foot of his bed, folding his clothes with a concentrated look.

“Are you almost done?” Lucas inquired in a soft voice and Arthur jerked his head in surprised, staring at Lucas with round eyes. He frowned an instant later and looked around his room before raising an eyebrow.

Lucas snorted, following Arthur’s stare across the room, realising his question had been pretty dumb, considering it was very much a mess.

He tilted his head, informing him quickly, “I’ll go put my stuff in the car.”

Arthur nodded in approval and went back to packing his clothes, grabbing a dark sweater and folding it poorly.

Lucas turned on his heels, heading towards the stairs when he heard Arthur clear his throat. 

“Have you talked to Eliott?” he asked in a cautious voice.

Lucas froze. “I, uh...” he sucked on his upper lip, “Not since yesterday. I think he’s avoiding me.”

“Lucas...” Arthur started hesitantly. “He doesn’t blame you. You tried your best.”

Lucas shook his head. “You really think so?” he said flatly. “I waisted an entire week trying to give him his memory back. And it was for nothing,” he gritted out. “Nothing at all,” he added in a whisper.

“Lucas -” Arthur said, getting on his feet and moving to him. He brought a comforting hand to Lucas’ shoulder, but Lucas shook him off gently.

He didn’t want comfort. He wasn’t the one stuck here for who knew how long. He wasn’t the one who had been let down.

“And now Eliott knows how he died, and he gets to remember that forever. He told me he feels stuck with his own thoughts most of the time and how much it brings him down. I don’t want him to be stuck with that memory,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth pulling downwards. “I didn’t help him. I made it worse.”

“Lucas…” Arthur repeated. “Please, don’t do this.”

Lucas shook his head. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he mumbled, stopping all discussion. He heard Arthur sigh behind him, but Lucas ignored him. He got down the stairs and walked to the front door with heavy steps.

Once he reached the car, he pushed open the boot and lifted his suitcase, putting it inside. He glanced at the house mind filled with thoughts of the unwilling inhabitant. 

He couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, not when Eliott was possibly avoiding him and feeling terrible about his only chance crumbling down before his eyes. 

He needed to see him.

With a convinced nod, he went back inside and stepped into the hallway, letting his feet guide him without thinking about where he was going. He landed in front of the door Eliott had taken him that first time days ago. Had that only been 5 days ago? Somehow, it felt a lot longer in Lucas’ mind.

He pushed the door open and glanced inside, noticing that Eliott was nowhere to be seen. His shoulder dropped and he was about to move to another room when his eyes landed on the old looking piano. 

Lucas knew he was rusty but without knowing what was taking over him, the desire to play took a hold of him. As if compelled by an outer power, his body moved to the piano and he sat down on the small bench.

He pressed one white key at random, then another one and a melody his grandpa used to play filled his memory. The piano was a bit out of tune, being probably not played that much by Arthur’s family and soon after, his fingers were dancing across the keys in a simple yet delicate melody.

Some people got lost in their music, their mind becoming blank to the point where the music and them became only one, their feelings pouring down on each note emptying them from everything else.

For Lucas it was impossible to do so, his mind filled with wide eyed wonder, memories of parallel universes and memories of a time where his family was complete and happy.

He felt like he was lost in a haze as the last notes rang in the air, his breathing ragged and shallow. He closed his eyes and let himself linger in this moment of peace.

“That was beautiful,” Eliott said behind him.

Lucas startled, surprised at the sound of his voice and snapped his head to look at him.

“You’re here,” he said tentatively, a relieved smile stretching his lips.

There was a strange glint in Eliott’s eyes as he observed Lucas. “Did you write this?” Eliott murmured, his face surprisingly tender.

Lucas shook his head. “That’s Arvo Pärt’s _Spiegel Im Spiegel_. It means Mirror in Mirror, I think. It’s about an infinity of reflections. Kinda like parallel universes in a way,” he explained.

Eliott raised an eyebrow. “Are you a polyglot? Is there anything you cannot do?”

Lucas’ smile froze on his face, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Freeing Eliott certainly was something he couldn’t do.

“Heh, I only speak French… And English sometimes, but I’m not that great at it,” he admitted, palming the back of his head sheepishly.

He cleared his throat and glanced back at Eliott with a small smile. “I mean… It’s my grandpa who told me about it. He loved physics and he was fascinated by the concept of parallel universes. He talked about it all the time when I was a kid... He lived in Germany when he was young. His dad was in the French Army for some time after World War II, uh, the war that was between 1939 and 1945. I don’t know if you’ve heard of that?”

Eliott smiled awkwardly. “One of the perks of not being able to die is that I overhear many conversations. I do not always know what it is about, but I have heard of that War," he explained. "Hector was a soldier at that time. He died on the fields of duty, if I recall correctly.” 

“Oh,” Lucas mumbled, “I didn’t know that.”

There was a moment of silence and Lucas couldn’t help but notice the odd way Eliott kept looking at him.

He threw him a worried look. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I...” Eliott trailed off, his eyes glazed over. He was visibly shaken, and Lucas waited for him to gather his thoughts. “Someone very special to me used to play a similar song before. He loved Schubert dearly, a great composer of my time.”

Lucas froze, unsure he had heard Eliott correctly. “He?”

Eliott nodded slowly. “He.”

His eyes filled with emotions Lucas couldn’t quite interpret, charged and heavy, a painful mix of longing and awe. “He was ... _is_ the most wonderful person I had ever met. So full of light and warmth,” Eliott murmured in a soft voice.

Eliott kept his gaze locked on Lucas, tenderness radiating from his eyes. “When we met, I was instantly drawn to him.” He paused. “He was the son of the Mayor, you see,” he admitted.

Lucas’ eyes widened. “What?” he exclaimed.

What was going on?

Eliott continued, ignoring Lucas’ interruption. “And we used to cross path a lot at social gatherings his mother organized for the wealthy people in the area. We…” He licked his lips. “We fell in love so fast, so intensely. All these nights, spent by Lake Montant, looking at the stars as we imagined a future in which we could be together... Hoping for the day we would run away and never look back,” he continued, his face becoming more and more open and vulnerable.

“You, uh, your soul reminds me of him,” Eliott admitted. “_You_ remind me of him.”

Lucas shook his head, fighting off his shock and he felt his heart beat loudly against his ribcage. Eliott’s special someone reminded him of him? The words made him shiver and he couldn’t explain his own reaction.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “What happened?” he asked in a wavering voice.

Eliott hesitated. “Somehow, Mother found out I was sneaking out of the house. I think I was 18, maybe 19 at this point. She followed me and saw us," he said. "She immediately assumed it was a result of my ... unstableness and she forbid me to seek him out again.” He paused. “I believe it was around that time that she decided I was to stay in the house and never leave. She had a maid following me every moment of everyday to make sure I would not go back to him.”

“What? How… Did it work?” Lucas stuttered, feeling his hands trembling.

Eliott shook his head and his eyes grew even fonder. “It did... and it did not. We wrote each other letters. And I grew close to a maid who saw me as her sibling by the name of Lucienne. She did not approve of the way Mother was treating me and she offered to pass my letters along to him. It is just that, one day, the letters stopped coming,” he said.

He sighed and stepped closer to Lucas. “I kept writing and writing and hoping I would finally get a reply. But I never did. I did not understand what was happening," he mumbled. "Consequently... When Mother told me I was to go to the Asylum, I realised that it could be my last chance to ever see him again and I begged Lucienne to distract the Maid who was supposed to keep an eye on me so I could go and find him.”

Lucas bit his lip. “And did you find him?”

“No. I never did. I...” Eliott admitted and his face grew tired. “You must know... I was not in a good state of mind that day. I had been feeling restless and jittery for a few days at that point and… I ran to his home, hoping I could get in unheard.” He paused and looked away. “Alas, his Father intercepted me and told me they had discovered the letters and had sent him to the North so he could live with a cousin of theirs. The news was devastating… So, I ran again.”

Lucas cleared his throat. “And you went to the lake.”

“Indeed,” Eliott whispered and his face morphed suddenly, looking even paler than usual. Lucas felt his blood run cold and he got off the bench, quickly stepping to Eliott, his eyes inspecting his body.

“I was planning on fleeing to join him. I got on this boat, perhaps thinking I could cross Lake Montant and join the Northern cities… His Father had followed me… He stopped me right before I was about to row away and said he wanted to talk. He...” Eliott trailed off before a strange look crossed over Eliott’s face. “What is happening? I, uh, I am feeling unwell,” he stated in a tight voice.

Lucas licked his lips and glanced at Eliott’s feet. “I … I don’t know but … You… I can’t see your feet anymore,” he stuttered, his mind racing trying to comprehend what was happening before him.

Eliott looked down on himself, and when he lifted his chin, a smile was on his lips although it looked difficult for him to do so. “I think it is working.”

“Eliott,” Lucas mumbled as he stepped closer, internally cursing his inability to hold onto Eliott. “Keep going.”

Eliott’s face seemed to pale even more, the colours of his skin blurring more and more with the room. “I told him to get in the boat and then we pressed forward. We moved across a fair amount of the lake before we stopped." He paused to lick his lips. "This is when he started talking, telling me that his son was the most important person in his life and that my presence around him would only bring him pain, that the life we wanted together could never be happy...”

He paused and exhaled shakily. “I... I lost my temper and ... I remember getting up and I could feel the boat swaying dangerously under my feet and .... then we both fell. His voice has haunted me ever since, begging me to reach the shore. But I did not know how to swim, and my head kept falling under the water... And... And...” he stuttered.

Lucas closed his eyes. “And you died. And the Mayor did too.”

“And I died,” came Eliott’s muffled voice, “Without ever saying goodbye to the person I loved the most.”

Lucas opened his eyes and stared at him, noticing his legs had fully disappeared.

Lucas stomach clenched painfully and for a moment, he thought a hand had plunged in his heart and was trying to rip it out of his chest.

Was that how it felt to watch someone you’d grown to care about die right in front of you?

Filled with hopelessness as your heart crumbled to pieces and the air knocked out of your lungs?

Lucas felt himself choke up, a sob almost escaping his lips, and he took a step back, shaking his head to gain back his composure. Now was not the time to get emotional he told himself forcefully. As much as it pained him to hear about what happened to Eliott and all he had to go through, Lucas needed to remain strong and push his own emotions aside. Eliott had waited centuries for that moment, for the day he would finally be able to leave this world.

To rest in peace. 

Yet, Lucas couldn’t quite hide how devasted he felt. His eyes started to water, and he lowered his eyes, avoiding Eliott’s gaze. His noise tingled and he sniffed discreetly. He took a deep breath and glanced back at Eliott, noticing most of his body had disappeared, leaving only his shoulders, neck and face.

Lucas forced a smile on his face. “Eliott... There’s almost none of you left.” He paused feeling his throat clogging up. “You did it,” he whispered, a slight tremor in his voice.

Eliott’s face came closer to his. “_We_ did it. None of this would have happened without you, Lucas,” Eliott said, his voice thinning to the point where it almost was a distant echo of what it once was. His body was an indistinct shape, and Lucas couldn’t see where Eliott’s body began and where it ended.

“Lucas…” Eliott murmured. Lucas felt hands cup his face gently, Eliott’s finger caressing his skin in light strokes. Lucas’ breath hitched in his throat when he noticed he had felt the warmth of Eliott’s skin, even though it seemed even less plausible now that he was becoming naught in front of his eyes. “I do not have much time.”

He looked into Eliott eyes, his blurry face the only remnants of what he once was and Lucas bit on his lips to force down another sob.

“Lucas. I did not need to remember my death, all I needed was to remember you,” Eliott whispered. “You were the reason I stayed in this world.”

Lucas frowned, his mind a haze of confusion and pain. “What? Eliott, you’re not making any sense.”

Eliott didn’t add anything more and Lucas feared their time was up, Eliott’s face almost unrecognizable, his eyes the only thing he could see. 

“I knew you would come back for me. This is all I ever wanted,” he heard Eliott whisper and Lucas felt even more confused. “Goodbye, my Love.”

Was Eliott seeing someone?

Lucas wanted to glance around to see who he was talking to but Eliott’s eyes were only focusing on him demanding his entire attention. Eliott was disappearing before him and Lucas had never felt so hopeless.

“Eliott,” Lucas murmured in a pained voice, completely unable to hide how he was feeling. “What … What was his name?” he asked in urgency. “Eliott, what was his name?”

“Lucas,” he heard Eliott’s voice whisper one last time, his eyes, shining lightly before he fully disappeared, leaving Lucas alone once and for all.

Lucas stood frozen, his feet rooted to the floor. Emptiness was slowly wrapping its arms around him leaving him numb, his eyes staring unseeingly at the wall ahead of him, his mouth open as if the muscles of his jaw had disjointed.

Goodbye Eliott.

A single tear fell out of his eyes and ran down his cheek, dying at the corner of his mouth. He licked his lip, tasting the salty flavour before a real smile slowly curled his lips.

Eliott was free.

—— 

Life had gone back to normal after that week in the countryside.

Some days, Lucas thought he had dreamt that whole week, dreamt about Eliott. But deep down, whether it had been a dream or not, he knew he was incapable of forgetting him. 

A part of him couldn’t comprehend why he felt so heartbroken. He had known Eliott for nothing more than a week. 7 days which meant nothing in a lifetime. Just a tiny crumb of time compared to the age of the universe, just like Lucas’ life was and anyone else around him. A tiny crumb he wouldn’t trade for anything, no matter how real and encompassing the numbness felt, wrapping around his heart and making it difficult to breathe.

Eliott’s last words to him kept lingering on his mind. It had felt like he had been talking to him, recognizing him as the person he had loved when he was alive, the person he had been so desperate for to the point where he had waited two hundred years. Two hundred years waiting for a goodbye. Two hundred years with no concrete memories, aimlessly haunting a house he had grown to despise for the dark secrets it held. Just so he could see them one last time.

Lucas couldn’t wrap his head around all of this. How could he, Lucas, be Eliott’s past love? In what world did that make any sense? Yet again, Lucas couldn’t help but think back on the reason why he had been able to see Eliott this whole time, a feat only he had managed to pull off.

Life had gone back to normal but Lucas himself had not.

Lucas had spent the last two weeks of July with his Mom in Italy, discovering the wonders of Rome and Florence, his Mom sporting a bright smile, happy to have her son by her side. The month of August had taken him to the beach, working at a vacation camp surrounded by loud-mouthed and horny teens to earn a bit of money before he had to start classes in the Fall.

Lucas was taken out his reverie when his next-door neighbour started making a lot of noise and he sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

He got out of the couch and went to the kitchen, opening the fridge and looking inside with unseeing eyes. He felt distracted, almost as if he was moving around on autopilot and he closed the fridge, opting to make himself a coffee instead.

He started pouring water in his water filter jug, remembering how Mika was going to yell at him if he got their electric kettle full of limestone again, and he stared at the water droplets falling and the ripples they did, a small wet sound following their fall. 

He heard a knock on his door, and he frowned, wondering if Mika had forgotten his keys and he dragged his feet on the floor up until the main entrance door, opening it with a tired face.

“Wha-?” he started before his eyes fell on the person in front of him, his eyes widening as his mouth dropped open. 

He closed his eyes and shook his head before he opened them again, sure that he had hallucinated those familiar blue eyes.

But he had not. 

“Eliott?”

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr : @tumblingdownthehills, don't hesitate to come and say hi ^^


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